Smothered By Love
by Colby'sGirl19
Summary: Don and the team take on the case of the 'LA Child Snatcher' with help from Special Agent Ian Edgerton. With Charlie also mysteriously back from England alone, can they save the latest victim to fall foul of the LA Child Snatcher before it's too late?
1. Chapter 1

**Smothered By Love**

**2 **

**Bothers**

**5**

**Families**

**8**

**Eternity**

**1 **

**Search for Justice**

*Disclaimer-This Fic is building up to a slash pairing. Non-Explicit. Don't like, don't read.* Thank you and enjoy. x Cobly'sGirl19

**Prologue**

As the last of the sun's rays slipped through the surrounding branches, Tessa Mawby couldn't help but fume about her day. As if working at the coffee shop wasn't bad enough, they were now breaking in yet _another_ new manager. The fourth in six months and the worst to date in her opinion-Susanne didn't count as she hadn't even made it to the shop before _she_ quit. What could Tessa do though? Ferris was her manager and just because he was an arrogant, lazy, inept twerp who thought he was God's gift to women did not mean that she was any less stuck with him.

Stopping briefly to nod at a passing jogger, Tessa ran her sweaty palm through her soft fringe in an attempt to clear her deep brown eyes. She was only small and yet the trail grew so narrow that she had to step sideways out of the big man's path. He held out a brief hand as a thank you but didn't stop nor hesitate for a second. Tessa didn't mind though, it was not as if she came jogging to purposely meet men. She was taking her health seriously and that meant sweating more than was humanly possible or physically attractive. _Men,_ _bah!_ She thought angrily as her thoughts returned to her boss once more. Not that she could tar all men with the same brush but Ferris had certainly put her off the idea of dating for a while, much to her friend's constant disappointment.

It was just irritating to know that Ferris could get away with being a jerk because he was '_the manager'_, as if that gave him licence to spend all day in the office sat on his lazy fat ass whilst the rest of them slogged their guts out below him, and then have the gall to try and shorten _their _breaks! When in fact he was so ridiculously incompetent at his job that most of the time his ineptitude meant extra work for the rest of them as they righted the 'messes' that _he_ left behind. How they were supposed to respect him when he could not even _manage_ a basic open without help she did not know. So much so that Tessa was convinced that Ferris would not even recognise a hard days graft if it rattled first before biting him in the ass!

Sighing audibly, Tessa gritted her teeth and tried to jog her frustration out, moving aside once more as another group of joggers passed. It seemed like every day was fast becoming an uphill battle for Tessa and somehow throughout it all Ferris was always at the centre of it all, like he was the eye of a tornado or the epicentre of an earthquake, leaving nought but frustration and resentment behind him as he continued to change their working environment for the worse. She couldn't remember the last time she hadn't woken and fallen asleep with a headache caused by that man!

What got to Tessa most, however, was the constant stress and drama that came with a job that she loathed. It was a basic menial job, not unlike any other. In fact Tessa was convinced that a trained monkey could do her job. There was just no challenge to it and she longed to be challenged.

Groaning internally, Tessa wept to herself as she pulled at the sleeveless jersey that was clinging to her round and rotund frame. Her Job actually infuriated her. It was supposed to be easy, a perfect stopgap between graduating college and becoming a known artist, but the truth was that most days she was surprised she even had the strength to go back when every instinct screamed at her not to. It was not because of her other colleagues-they were all mostly a good bunch, she could even handle the long boring hours and thankless customers because it was only supposed to be _temporary_. Six months later and the 'temporary' was starting to look a little too _un_-temporary for her liking.

Grinding her teeth with frustration, Tessa ran without abandon, praying that every step could take her further and further away. She was restless for a future she knew she deserved and had worked hard at college to achieve. Nevertheless as she carried on round a sharp bend in the path her treacherous mind couldn't help but wander back to the shop and that morning in particular. Just remembering the way Ferris had smiled and laughed at her like she was some simpering child that would wilt with gratitude that he had even glanced her way made her skin crawl and shiver with barely concealed disgust. She was no beauty, she was the first to admit that, but even she had higher standards than that snivelling twit. She would not call herself a bitchy woman, she just had a really low tolerance when it came to dealing with fools and Ferris was certainly a fool!

Out of breath and fed up, Tessa stopped running and kneaded the stich that had formed in her right side. Running was usually her release and yet today…today she was just too angry to properly relax. She had woken up knowing that the day was going to be a bad one, she just hadn't realised by how much, or that Ferris could possibly sink any lower in her already very low esteem. She had been dead wrong, however, and Tessa could not help but wonder if there was no depth to which his uselessness bum could not sink.

Sighing again, she tried her hardest to smooth the frown from her brow and forced her tired body over to a nearby tree that must have fallen in the last storm to hit LA's coast. It was a nice spot really, and the tree provided quite a nice impromptu spot in which to take advantage of the scenery. Letting the setting wash over her as she bathed her face in sunshine, Tessa let go of her last bitter feelings towards what had felt like the longest shift in the history of shifts. Why worry about what Ferris would no next when she could no more control him as the tree could have controlled the weather. She needed to relax, stop and smell the roses more, or whatever the pretty white flower at her toes was anyway.

Leaning down to investigate closer, Tessa marvelled at how such a precious flower could grow and survive on such a popular and well used nature trail as this one. How long it took for her tired brain to acknowledge the small dirty fingertips poking through the rough soil next to the flower she did not know…all she knew was the sudden sharpness in her chest as her heart skipped several beats as the horror of the situation dawned upon her unprepared and fragile mind. Screaming her surprise and stumbling backwards in an effort to get away, Tessa tripped over the log in her haste. Looking up and down the trail Tessa screamed for help but for once there was no one around. For such a _popular_ trail she found herself quite suddenly alone.

No longer warmed by the sun's harsh rays, Tessa shivered violently as she shrank further backwards, half running half crawling into the sheltered cover of the wooded area behind her and as far away from the tiny grave as her short legs could carry her. Looking about her to make sure she was as definitely alone, Tessa bowed her head in distress as her stomach heaved and her weak legs gave way beneath her. Sinking to her knees, Tessa leaned forwards and retched repeatedly as her body shivered and convulsed with unconcealed fear and revulsion, all the while the dry and brittle grass scratched at her exposed palms and legs.

How long she knelt like that, Tessa did not know. All she knew was that the sun was dipping dangerously low in the darkening sky and that her fragile body had nothing left inside to give. Afraid of the encroaching darkness, Tessa wiped her small mouth on her bare arm before spitting the last of the bile from her dry mouth and stood up. Less than ten meters away, out of the corner of her eye, Tessa could just about make out the child's small curled fingers next to the small white flower that had drawn her attention in the first place. That she could have easily chosen not to stop and the child's body could just as easily have never been discovered chilled her to her core. Nevertheless she had stopped and she had discovered…well God knew what she had actually discovered, whatever it was she knew that it wasn't good and that now it was her duty to report it.

Finally retaining her common sense, Tessa reached deep into the pockets of her jogging shorts and pulled out her mobile phone, dialling as fast as her trembling fingers would permit. All thoughts of Ferris and the coffee shop long forgotten, Tessa waited patiently as the dialling tone kicked in, thanking God once more for the decent signal on a trail known for usually having none.

Thoroughly creeped out beyond words now because after all she was alone in a forest…with a dead body. Tessa tried to level her uneven breathing as a raspy female voice cut across her scrambled thoughts of the dark, dead children and flesh eating zombies, "Emergency services, how may I direct your call?" She rasped down the line, her tone uncaring and anything but friendly. Desperate for the woman or anyone to help her, Tessa half laughed half wept her relief as she found the strength to ask for the police and then explain the situation to a second and much friendlier sounding woman.

"Yes…yes…a…a…bo…bod…body," Tessa half stammered half whimpered in response to the woman's questions, at least she thought she did, the weak throttled sob on the word 'body' sounded so unlike her voice and far removed from her own body that she had to double check once more that she was still alone. "_Please hurry_," She added desperately, just in case.

**Chapter 1**

Looking at the daunting stack of reports on his large mahogany desk, Don Eppes started to seriously reconsider his choice to accept the AD's offer of promotion to SAIC. He had barely been the Special Agent in Charge for three months and already the pressure was mounting as Assistant Director Nick Callaghan breathed down his neck for reassurances. Being old friends from Quantico, all eyes in the department looked to Don as if waiting for him to muck up and fall flat on his face.

He wasn't deaf either. He knew that word around the water cooler was that he had only gotten the promotion because he was the best man at the AD's wedding. Truth was Don had come real close to quitting when he had lost his gun three months previously. It was _Nick_ who had finally convinced him that the bunch of vigilante killings that occurred because he had let some passer by pick up his service weapon was not a good enough reason to quit. The FBI was his life. It was what he_ did_, what he was damn good at! He wasn't about to be run out of the job just because the rest of the team leaders grumbled that he didn't deserve it-that he hadn't _earned_ it!

At first he had just assumed that they were jealous because he had gotten a large corner office that could fit his old team's cubicles in it five times. With massive celling to floor length windows, a large desk, couch, conference table and secretarial anti chamber-Don had just assumed that the others were envious of the space. If only they knew that it also came with long hours, boring briefings, budget meetings, tedious office squabbles and never ending paperwork that the last SAIC had left scattered across the desk, floor and conference table with no real structure.

Regardless, Don was determined to enjoy it, to make the space his own. Behind his desk, on the furthest wall, Don had filled the large bookcase with his extensive LP collection and record player. On the cupboards by the wall length window he kept his signed baseball collection and on the back of his door hung a large basketball hoop. He figured if he was going to spend a lot of long nights in his office, he might as well enjoy himself. What it really meant was that his old team often spent more time in his office than at their desks, not that he would complain as he was glad for the company.

In addition to the constant pressure to prove himself, as if that wasn't headache enough, Don was also under pressure to find a replacement for David, who had secured his own promotion in DC, and himself on their old team. For the time being Colby headed the team, though the paperwork was wearing his patience thin as he waited for Don to pick a decent candidate to take over. Problem was several interviews later, Don still couldn't decide. He didn't mean to sound arrogant, but it wasn't like he could just let _anyone_ head the team and the recent applicants had left _a lot_ to be desired.

The only one to stand out in the crowd had been Special Agent William Chase to replace David. A psychology major and tutor at Quantico for four years, Chase was still pretty green and had as yet to prove himself in the field, Don just hoped his instinct upon meeting the man proved him right. Besides Don could still remember when David had first joined the team, he had been pretty green back then as well and he'd turnout alright. Moreover they needed a psychological profiler on the team and Don was convinced that Chase was it. He had already proved that he fit in well with the team dynamic. Now it was just a case of testing how well he could perform on a real case. It was his reactions to his environment and suspects that would truly test the mettle of the man. Don's instincts were rarely wrong but even he was holding his breath on this one.

Running his long fingers through his roughly combed black hair, Don leaned back in his large swivel chair and counted to ten before pulling the top file into his lap. _One problem at a time, _he told himself sternly, making a mental note to review the applications again that night before bed. After all he made all his best decisions late at night. Robin, his fiancée, hated him bringing his work home with him but even she could understand that there was bound to be a transition period as there had been when she was promoted to District Attorney. He just hated that his work drew him away from her so often, especially as they were still planning their wedding for the coming months.

Opening the thick file, Don sighed and loosened his tie, _the more he got done now, the less he needed to do later_, he reasoned with his consciousness. The report was of a recent triple homicide involving two court officials and a judge several weeks away from retirement. He knew the case well, not only because it had been all over the news for weeks but more than that Don had known the judge personally. He had been a fair man, ready to hand out the harsh punishments but also ready to show mercy to those that warranted it. Don couldn't help but wonder how Judge Tompkins would have sentenced his murderer…

Lost in thought and barely a page into the report, Don was conveniently distracted by a soft tap on his office door. He recognised the tap immediately and was already on his feet and half way across the room by the time his fiancée opened the sturdy door. She wasn't alone, which told Don that it wasn't a social call.

Stopping in his tracks, Don took in the small disapproving frown pulling at the corners of Robin's red painted lips as her sharp eyes surveyed the messy office. Robin was a neat freak. Everything about her was immaculate and precise, from her white suit jacket with black cuffs, to her pencil black skirt with the smallest of slits in the back. Her brown hair was meticulously groomed and up in combs. She looked stunning and Don longed to mess her up. Swallowing his desire, Don counted to ten. It took more self-control than he thought he had, not to pull the combs from her hair and tip her onto his ridiculously soft leather couch.

As if she could read his thoughts, Robin shook her head fractionally, the smallest of smiles playing at her supple lips as Don closed the gap between them, narrowly avoiding a mishap with the files before finally reaching her and her companion. Taking her hand in his, Don planted a brief kiss on her cheek before sliding his arm around her waist, his hand resting on the small of her back.

Turning to greet her unexpected companion, Don recognised Michael Burnett instantly even though they had never met before. He was a tall man, mid-thirty's with light blond hair and grey piercing eyes. He and his family had also occupied the news for the last month, not that Don could quite remember the story. He tried to avoid the news when he could. Journalists tended to misquote and deal only in half-truths. They also had an annoying habit of making his job ten times harder than was necessary!

"Don Eppes," he politely offered a hand in greeting when Robin failed to make the appropriate introductions.

"Michael Burnett," Burnett grimaced as he grabbed Don's hand in reply and shook it firmly. "Forgive me," he added when a minute passed and they were still shaking hands, "I…I…seem to…erm…" Unsure how to continue, Burnett dropped Don's hand as if he had been electrocuted and opted for silence instead. If he knew why he was in Don's office, it didn't come across.

There was just something about him though from the hunched posture, the glazed eyes, and the mismatched suit, that screamed bereavement to Don. Perhaps it was just a case of having worked too long as an FBI officer or that he had informed enough families over the years to recognise what he referred to as the _'the brush of death'_. That moment when life is halted and suddenly you realise that the world is a dangerous place where evil often wins and the world rarely makes any sense. It was a moment when faith is tested and lives are changed, not always for the better. He could understand the man's pain, he had lost his mother several years back to cancer and the wound was still a raw one. Even nowadays he found the odd moment when his mind wondered, the words 'what if' on the tip of his tongue as the world melted away around him.

Scrubbing his tired face with his free hand, Don looked at his fiancée's distressed face, any lingering desire extinguished. Whatever had brought them to his office, it wasn't good and Don had a sinking suspicion it meant extra work and more headaches for himself. "You'd better take a seat," Don gestured to them to sit in one of the two soft padded chairs before his desk.

Stopping only once to right a knee high pile, that Burnett had gotten a little _too_ close to, Don plonked himself back down in his own large black swivel chair and folded his hands in his lap. He could just about see them for all the files on top of his desk.

"Forgive the mess," Don said as way of apology as Burnett eyed the large pile without really seeing it, "my assistant and I have yet to file some of these away…" He pressed further to fill the awkward gap in conversation. Not that he thought Burnett heard him anyway.

"Don," Robin practically whispered when Burnett made no attempt to explain for himself. "They found Connie's body this afternoon."

Eyes lighting with recognition, Don finally understood the man's terrible composure. As the assistant district attorney, Burnett had become known for his ability to win and close cases, hell it was why Robin had hired him in the first place. It didn't matter to her that he hadn't graduated top of his class or scored too highly on his LSATS. He knew the law but more importantly he knew_ people_ and it was for that reason alone that she had sought him out and offered him the position on the spot. Was he popular amongst his fellow lawyers? No, but his clients loved him and he saw justice served. Thinking about it, Don couldn't remember the last case Burnett hadn't won for the DA's office.

It was not, however, his reputation that had Don cursing internally. It was his sudden memory of Burnett at a press conference pleading for his daughter's kidnappers to bring her home. Clearly his daughter Connie Burnett was the latest victim to fall fowl of what the press was dubbing the 'LA Child Snatcher'.

Don didn't know the case particularly well, just that the child was normally snatched from a park and killed a week later. The last two victims had been found on popular jogging paths, Don would bet his right arm that Connie would have been found on one too. Charlie, Don's younger brother, was the mathematically genius not him, but even Don could count to three-the number at which the bureau specified a murderer becomes a serial killer. Sitting up straighter in his chair, Don felt his heart race. "I'm sorry for your loss," he stumbled to tell the devastated father in front of him and meant it whole heartedly. If there was one crime that Don hated above all others it was the murder of a child. After all it was child serial killers that made Don believe in the death penalty to begin with and now they had one loose in LA. The press would eat this up.

"Don?" Robin asked hesitantly, "I…I was hoping that you would take the case," she had never sounded less certain in her life. "I realise we can't bring Connie back…but the LAPD…I trust no one else to bring her…her murderer to justice."

"Of course," Don rushed to placate her with his words, wishing that he could hold her instead. He had forgotten that Robin knew Burnett's family personally. A single father-the mother having died in a car accident-Connie was all Michael had had left...and now? Now he didn't even have that. In all honesty, it was days like this one that had Don questioning if he ever wanted a child. The pain that Michael must be going through was…unthinkable. _"A child should bury their parents…not the other way round…it's not…right!"_ Don's father Alan had once told him when Don's team had been called in on a school shooting in Palm Springs and Don couldn't agree more.

Getting up to pace behind his desk, Don dug his hands into his suit pockets. "You understand, it means that my team will have to investigate everything, however insignificant it may seem. Serial killers often stalk their victims…I'll have to know every aspect of your lives if we're to catch this SOB. My team may have to ask you and your family some difficult, trying and at times tedious questions to get to the truth…" Don informed Burnett, his pacing having broken him out of his trance.

"I just want the bastard that did this to my little girl," Burnett spat at Don from across the desk. "Ask your questions. I have nothing to hide!"

"Then I will make the necessary calls," Don nodded to his fiancée and her companion. Realising it was time to leave, Robin pulled Burnett to his feet before shepherding her assistant DA out of Don's spacious office, stopping only once to mouth thank you to Don over her shoulder, before pulling the door closed behind them.

Slumping back down into his chair, Don buried his face in his hands. He had more work than he could physically complete and he had taken on an extra case? Was he mental? Remembering his fiancée's red rimmed eyes from crying told him that he wasn't because Robin didn't cry. It was her thing, she was tougher than that-or at least that's what she wanted everyone to believe. Being the District Attorney in a profession dominated by strong men wasn't easy. She couldn't afford to show weakness.

Don knew the truth though. At home she was a kind, funny, beautifully sensitive woman and he loved her for it. Hell it's why he wanted to marry her and though she rarely needed it, Don loved those moments of weakness. When she let down the barriers and exposed her soul to him, letting him protect her as he enveloped her in his arms and kissed the tip of her nose and cheeks before claiming her mouth with his. She probably didn't need saving but it made him feel needed all the same and this had been one of those moments. Though she hadn't said as much, he could see it in her eyes. That was reason enough for him to take on the extra work. He loved her and knew in his heart that he would do anything for her.

Shaking his head at his own mushy thoughts, Don lifted the receiver on his desk phone and called Nick. He'd need the AD's support to call jurisdiction over the LAPD and take their case. Nick wouldn't be happy, but what could they do? The FBI couldn't ignore a serial killer in their own city. He just wished his brother wasn't teaching in Cambridge, England. He missed him and he had a sinking feeling he'd need a mathematical edge in the days to come.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Guided by the soft glow of the moon and distant beams, Detective Elliott Hayes followed the flashlights to the tiny grave found earlier that night on the fringe of a popular LA jogging trail. Elliott knew the trail well as it was popular with many off duty detectives that preferred the open air to the treadmill. Personally, Elliott hated both. Running was definitely not his thing. The closest he got to a sport was coaching his son's little league games. Turning six at the end of the month, his son, Lucas, would be the same age as the victim-Connie Burnett.

Elliott didn't need the father for a positive ID, although that would come later, as the whole of the LAPD had been searching for this little girl for the last month, although it had felt a lot longer to Elliott. As a father, he could only imagine how long it must have felt to Connie's dad Michael Burnett.

"Good, you're here," Dr Claudia Gomez, the LA county coroner, grouched as he approached from behind. She was a young Latino woman but she could easily drink him under the table or win in an arm wrestling match, she was feisty but then she had to be to be at the top of her field at such a young age. Being a homicide detective and her a coroner, it stood to reason that they saw a lot of each other and the pair had quickly fallen into an easy friendship.

She was already examining the body when he'd arrived, it was probably her fifth or sixth call of the night so far with Dr Ridenhour on holiday in France and it probably wasn't her last either. Ten years in the force and it still surprised him how many murders occurred in LA in just one night.

"Nice to see you too," He smiled, barely. It was neither the time nor place. "What can you tell me?" He asked as he crouched down to get a closer look, drawing his own flashlight to examine the little girl's face. She had waist length blond hair and twinkling blue eyes. Smooth red cheeks with skin like porcelain. She would have been perfect had she not been marred with by violent bruises around her nose and mouth by the killer. Untroubled as if she would wake from her slumber at any moment, Connie Burnett was also a perfect replica of the previous two victims. Their perp had a type.

"Not much in this light I'm afraid," Claudia grimaced. "I let the CSI's do their thing mostly. They took photos of the body in the grave…she was positioned like the rest with more of those white flowers in her hand." Claudia continued, handing over an evidence bag for him. "What I can tell you it that COD appears to be asphyxiation. As you can see she has blood in the eyes and bruising around the cheeks and nose. It's consistent with the COD of the other victims, Ellie Wilson and Faye Larson."

"So he smothered her with his hand?" Elliott asked, swallowing his frustration and fury on behalf of the victims.

"Yes, unfortunately with such a small victim…it's not uncommon. It's about power for him. Because the bruises are lighter this time, I'd say he didn't press his hand quite as firmly as before. By using less pressure he's drawing out the process, getting more pleasure from the act whilst maintaining the end result." Using her flashlight as a pointer, Claudia made her way down to the victim's chest. "The area is also more precise, he didn't break her nose or ribs this time. He's getting better…more effective. I'll have to run a tox panel back at the lab to determine whether or not pharmaceuticals were used to keep her sedated as he smothered her."

"Great, that's exactly what every homicide detective wants to hear, that they are chasing a more effective killer!" Scratching his peppery brown hair, Elliott considered his victim. If you took a snap shot and compared it against the other crime scenes you'd see that they were all identical. They were all buried on popular jogging trails, wooded on one side, view of LA on the other. It was actually quite a picturesque location. Was that why he choose them? Either way, he'd had balls this time. Not many killers would choose to spend hours digging a grave on a trail used every day by off duty cops. In fact with the amount of traffic on the trail he was surprised that no one had seen anything at all!

"We'll catch him," Claudia offered his troubled mind but Elliott was less confidant. With every murder, their killer was getting better or as Claudia had put it…more effective. He was hiding his tracks better and perfecting his technique. Left to evolve fully, their perp could become almost uncatchable. Folding his arms across his huge chest, Elliott made a mental note to compare the perfected areas against the original crime. It was in the 'passion' and 'heat' of the first murder that they would catch him. After all, he had to have left something behind that they were missing…

"Elliott?" Claudia asked worried when he didn't say anything after several minutes.

"Does she have the brand?" Elliott asked, knowing already that she would. As soon as he had seen the other victims his gut had told him that he was dealing with a child serial killer. This one would just confirm it. Ten years in the business and his gut hadn't let him down yet, not that he wouldn't love to be proved wrong this_ one_ time.

"On the right shoulder like all the others," Claudia replied, pulling down the red jacket to reveal the number eight burnt onto the girl's shoulder. "It looks to have been post mortem as well…thank God!" Leaning back on her heels, Claudia pulled her hand back letting the fabric fall back into place.

"Elliott," his partner Detective Brian Hamilton tapped him on the shoulder, he must have finished with their witness Tessa Mawby. She had been pretty distraught when Elliott had first tried to interview her. Fortunately his partner had more patience than him. Who knew maybe she had seen something new that the other witnesses had missed...

If she had, Brian would get it out of her. No one could resist his charm when he turned it on. With a strong chiselled jaw and dimples, Brian exuded confidence. He also wore expensive Armani suits for a homicide detective in LA. Most cops' figured it was because he was on the take, hell it had been Elliott's first impression of his 'model' partner until he heard that he came from money, with a trust fund larger that Elliott would see in another ten years on the beat. Why he chose to work the Downtown beat that was the grittiest in LA, Elliott couldn't say. His partner didn't really like to offer much about his childhood and Elliott could respect that.

"We've got company," Brian told him, nodding his head in the direction of a black Ford that had just pulled up next to the paparazzi that were going crazy for images of the new arrivals. Unable to see them for all the flashes that were going off, Elliott stood up, giving Claudia a hand as she too struggled to see what the fuss was about. From what he could tell there was two of them, one taller than the other. He didn't recognise either.

"Detectives Hayes and Hamilton?" The taller of the men asked. He had short cropped brown hair, hazel eyes and a thick jaw and neck. His shoulders were broad and his frame stocky, not that he was big, just incredibly ripped. Elliott imagined that the man probably surfed; he had that look about him.

"Yes," Elliott replied as his partner shifted uncomfortably on the spot.

""FBI," He held out his badge for Elliott to examine.

"That's great," Brian replied annoyed. "But why is it that you're_ here _agent….?"

"Special Agent Granger. This is my partner Agent Chase," the man, Granger, said, gesturing to the other man who was shorter and leaner than his partner. He had curly blond locks that were styled to sweep across his wide forehead. He had baby blue eyes and gentle features. If he was pressed to, Elliott would describe Agent chase as the stereotypical 'boy next door'. He had a country twang when he said hello and Elliott would bet money that the man had been the all-star quarterback on his high school football team.

"We're taking over the case," Chase informed the startled detectives.

"Bullshit," Elliott cursed. "You can't just turn up to _my _crime scene and claim jurisdiction!"

"I'm calling Captain Brown!" Brian shouted petulantly, pulling his phone from his suit jacket pocket before storming off, complaining about bad cell reception.

"I'll let the boy's know to take the body back to the morgue now," Claudia said, breaking the awkward silence as Elliott tried to stare out the pair of FBI agents.

Chase was the only one to look away though. Granger must have been made of steelier stuff because Elliott's light blue-grey eyes had a way of chilling his opponents. Brian's first words upon seeing his new partner two years ago had been…well too rude to say here. Elliott didn't mind though, it made the criminals think twice when Elliott got angry as his eyes turned almost ethereal in appearance. It left them on edge in the interrogation room, which was how Elliott liked it. A scared perp didn't think straight and a perp not thinking straight was a stupid, more talkative one. Brian always joked that he and his 'eyes' were the bad cop to Brian's good cop. After all, perps always thought they could cut a deal with a man in an expensive suit.

"Thanks Claudia," Elliott told her, squeezing her shoulder in thanks as they continued to wait for Brian to come back.

"No problem," She smiled before heading back down the slight hill.

"No way!" Brian shouted down his phone, causing Agent Chase to smirk and gaining him a sharp elbow prod from Granger.

"It appears that your claim to the case is _legit_…" Elliott forced through clenched teeth, grinding them from the effort.

"Look," Agent Granger told Elliott calmly. "Don, the SAIC wants your input. We're taking the case but we want you _and _yourpartner to collaborate with us on this case. That is if you think you can persuade_ him_ that we aren't the enemy," Granger gestured to Brian who was still complaining to the captain, any 'composure' long forgotten. He had more patience than Elliott but he was certainly quicker to lose his cool. He may wear Armani suits but that didn't stop him getting in a perp's face just to watch him sweat.

"So we're not off the case?" Elliott asked, scratching at his stubbled chin in thought.

"Not unless you're going to get in the way?" Granger folded his thick arms menacingly. Wearing only a pressed blue shirt and jeans, the agent posed quite an imposing figure.

A little intimidated, Elliott smiled impressed as Brian re-joined them, a sour look upon his perfect features. Only in Hollywood could he pull off looking like that and being a 'homicide detective'.

"Captain agreed…it's true…it's _their _case _now,"_ Brian spat at the ground. "They already have agents at the office _seizing_ all our files!"

"Commandeering," Chase replied flippantly, not helping the situation any.

Elliott's gut told him the kid was new. A seasoned officer would hopefully show more respect. "Special Agent Granger has agreed to keep us on the team," He told his partner, clapping him on the shoulder to show no hard feelings.

"Playing what role?" Brian asked peevishly. Only his second year on the force and practically green himself, Brian still had a lot learn as well. Like when to shut up.

"I'm more than willing to have a pissing contest with you Detective Hamilton, if that is what you wish?" Agent Granger spat back, finally losing patience. _So he was human,_ Elliott mused, liking the impassioned agent the moment that he had clarified that Elliott wasn't losing his case. He had worked too damn hard at it for the last three-four months. He wanted to be the one to strap the arsehole into the chair…

"However, there is a little girl lying dead at your feet and at some point I would like to catch her killer" Agent Granger continued. "The FBI has greater resources than the LAPD and more man power. Your role is to help investigate and catch the murdering SOB before he takes another little girl! Do you think you that you can live with that?"

"Yes," Brian replied after a moment's hesitation. The emotional agent had clearly thrown his chastised partner. It was a common misconception that all Fed's wore terrible black suits and sunglasses and drove around in black SUV's. Agent Granger, however, appeared to be like any other cop on the beat. Elliott was sure that Brian would soon see that and quit his whining.

"Ah, Claudia!" Granger smiled relaxed once more as he waved to the coroner as she and two others made their way over to the grave and the unlikely foursome.

"Colby," She smiled as if she hadn't a care in the world.

"Oh yeah," He laughed at Elliott's curious expression. "As we'll be working together, you may as well call me Colby and that's Will." Turning back to Claudia Colby asked, "Would you do me a favour Clau? I missed the prelim…you mind going over the body quickly for me and my partner?" Colby smiled charmingly at the blushing Claudia. Not even Brian had that effect on the normally tough coroner.

"Of course," She gushed. Gushed! "Victim is Connie Burnett. COD is asphyxiation, just like the other victims. See the bruising over her nose and cheeks? We think he's using his own hand to smother the children. Each child has the same distinguishing features. Blond hair, blue eyes, and the number eight burned post mortem on their shoulders. They all wear the same outfit as well. Red raincoat, yellow wellies and a white dress."

"What about TOD?" Elliott asked when Claudia stopped to let Colby take notes.

"Based on decomp and the…insects…" She paused to make the mental calculations. "I'd say TOD is approximately two weeks…"

"Two weeks?" Elliott asked startled. The others were murdered after one…

"I know," She half whispered half cursed to his unspoken thoughts. "He's evolving in more ways than one…"

"A change in MO?" Agent Chase asked curious.

"Yes," Elliott cursed, as Claudia ran her gloved fingers through her long black hair. She'd had it up earlier and the movement went some way to distracting his tired mind.

"What does it mean?" Brian asked just as curious, their earlier squabble apparently forgotten as the pair began to discuss the possibilities.

"It means your serial killer is learning control," A voice interrupted them from the darkness.

"Who goes there?" Elliott demanded, raising his flashlight and service revolver in two swift movements. Seconds behind him, Brian and Will raised their guns in unison whilst Colby watched on amused, a gleam of recognition in his hazel eyes as he let the scenario play out.

"A friend," The voice replied as a tall elegant stranger emerged from the surrounding darkness. He wore a black T-shirt covered by a battered brown leather jacket, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows revealing toned forearms. Arms up in surrender, Elliott couldn't help but be impressed. Physically, the man was striking. He had short black hair, sleeked back except for one unruly lock that fell into his almond shaped eyes. He wasn't bulky but lean in build, with broad shoulders and a tanned healthy athletic build.

Still aiming his weapon, Elliott admired the grace in which the man walked, careful whilst seemingly carefree as he made his way over. If he couldn't see him, Elliott wouldn't have known that he was there for the silence that followed him out of the forest. Moving with a cat like agility, the man's muscles rippled from the effort, as a scoped rifle hung jauntily from his right shoulder like a handbag. The man appeared completely at ease with it there, its rhythmic swing matching his own leisured pace.

"Ian," Colby greeted the man when he eventually arrived at the graveside. "What are you doing here?" He laughed as he shook hands with the stranger. Lowering their weapons, Brian and Will took in the stranger up close, awe in their relieved eyes. The stranger…Ian was even more imposing up close if it was possible. Taller than he had seemed at a distance, he easily towered above them all. He also gave off an aura of danger, despite his laid back and relaxed pose. Elliott got the impression that this man was ready for anything, twenty four seven.

"I was in the neighbourhood, decided to drop by," Ian smiled a wolfish smile that Elliott didn't entirely trust. Finally lowering his weapon, Elliott accepted the badge that the agent volunteered for him.

"You make a habit of hiding in the woods at LAPD crime scenes…Agent Edgerton?" Elliott asked as he shone his flashlight over the badge. It seemed authentic, although he wasn't entirely sure what a dodgy FBI badge would look like and Colby seemed to know him...

"People don't seem to notice me until I talk," Edgerton smiled again, though it wasn't friendly. "Where's David?" He asked Colby, pointing at Chase and ignoring the two detectives.

"He's in DC, heading his own anti-corruption team," Colby replied, a hint of regret in his tired voice.

"I suppose you had to break the team up eventually," Edgerton smiled genuinely at the others. "After all, people were starting to talk," He winked at Chase as he shook the agent's hand.

"What are you doing here?" Colby enquired again of Edgerton, Elliott and his partner long forgotten.

"I'm here to hunt," Ian replied, losing his smile altogether as his mind returned to the business at hand.

"Hunt?" Elliott asked curiously, causing the agent to turn his attention back onto him. There was something about the way the agent's eyes looked him over that left Elliott wondering if it was how the man's prey must feel knowing that he's closing in on them. Elliott definitely didn't want to find out!

"Agent Edgerton here is a sniper instructor from Quantico. He's also the bureau's best tracker. He's helped us on several cases in the past. His insights have often proved invaluable. To be honest I'm glad you're here!" Colby told them as he made the appropriate introductions. Elliott couldn't help but be impressed, though he still decided to reserve judgement until he knew the man better.

"Your assertion that he is learning control is a good one," William nodded as he paced around the grave. "Every crime scene is the same…but a little different…a little better."

"So…he's learning to control himself…" Brain said, trying to figure it out in his head.

"Yes," Edgerton folded his arms and rested his chin on his hand. "In the case of the first murder, he was like a teenage boy with a wet dream. The first crime was messy because he had never done it before, only fantasised. He didn't know the size, shape or feel of the child until his hand was there, pressing against her face. Emotional, he pressed too hard, broke her nose from the pressure and two ribs from where he knelt on her to keep her struggling body on the ground. However, as all adolescent males eventually do, our killer learnt to control his desire…his _need._" Ian shoved his hands in his pockets as he crouched down next to the body. "He's prolonging the time from kidnap to murder, taking gratification from having the child as well as ending her life."

"Each time he murders a child he learns something new," Elliott replied, nodding his agreement.

"Right," Ian smiled encouragingly at Elliott. Impressed by this man, despite his initial distrust, Elliott couldn't help but swell with pride under the weight of the man's praise. Coughing to hide his embarrassment, Elliott hoped that no one else could see his bright red cheeks in the darkness. He could only begin to imagine how great a teacher Agent Edgerton probably was. His classes would definitely be fascinating, Elliott knew that much.

"The first child struggled, so he knelt on her," Ian continued, drawing Elliott's attention back to their vic. "The second showed signs of restraints but he still ended up cracking a few ribs and broke her nose in the process. If Claudia's hunch pays off, which I have no doubt that it will, he would have used drugs to keep the child calm this time whilst he slowly smothered her to death. Eliminating the need to kneel on her chest." Edgerton frowned at the body. "We have the how…now we just need the why. I'd bet you a hundred dollars right now that these girls are connected somehow…however tenuous the link may be."

"How long were you standing there?" Brian laughed his amazement, as the daunting agent slipped on some black leather gloves before helping Claudia to zip up the tiny child in the smallest body bag Elliott had seen to date. _They shouldn't come this small_…he thought angrily, cursing their murderer and renewing his pledge to catch him before he could do it again.

"Actually, I read the file on my way over here," Ian shrugged. _So he wasn't omniscient_, Elliott mused as his partner nodded his disappointment. Brian's eyes were like saucers, frenzied with hero worship, despite his disappointment. Will's weren't much better and Colby's just sparkled with mischief as he laughed at the other's reaction to his old friend. Elliott didn't know it, but Colby had once had a similar reaction when he was first introduced to the legend that was Agent Ian Edgerton.

"Everything about this case screams that he is an organised serial killer," Chase mused, eventually tearing his eyes away from Ian to look back at their vic.

"As opposed to a disorganised one?" Brian joked, but he was the only one laughing.

"Exactly," Will snapped his fingers at Brian. "Organised serial killers generally have above average IQ's. They plan their crimes methodically, abducting their victims and killing them in one place and then disposing of the body in another. He'll most likely have reasonable knowledge of forensics to enable him to control his environment and cover his tracks. I'd have to examine the details of the case closer to create a proper psychological profile on our killer though. It is most likely that he was abused as a child given the circumstances of the victim's deaths."

"Good," Colby nodded his agreement. "Use Nikki, she's good at assessing people."

"Ok," Will smiled excitedly at the others. Elliott could see the man twitching, eager to get back to the office.

"It will be morning soon," Colby assessed from the moon's position and the light glow of sunrise behind the farthest reaching trees. "I say we reconvene in the morning at the FBI building. Talk over the case and Ian's findings when we've all had a few good hours of sleep."

"Ian's findings?" Elliott asked confused. Edgerton hadn't said anything about findings.

"Sorry, I was just assuming that you'd found something," Colby replied sheepishly. "You've that look in your eye," He said to Ian who only smiled secretly in return.

"I have a hunch," He replied as they all watched silently as Claudia and the two men wheeled the body away. "I'm going to stop here tonight, check the trail at dawn. With the better light I should be able to see if I'm right or not."

"Stay here?" Brian asked horrified.

"Ian is used to sleeping under the stars," Colby replied for his friend. "What was it you said once…? Oh yeah, that your idea of a five star hotel is an insulated sleeping bag and a waterproof tent!"

"Well I'm easy to please," Ian smirked his agreement as he waved his hand goodbye before sauntering off into the woods as quickly and silently as he had first appeared, his rifle now in his hands as if it were an extension of his arms.

Blinking his surprise, unsure how to take the allusive Agent Edgerton, Elliott summarised that the next few weeks would prove insightful to say the least. Reluctantly, he also felt a little relieved to have these impressive men on the case. He didn't have a problem with a little collaboration if it meant they caught the killer sooner! I mean who could argue with that?

Smiling in defeat, Elliott said his goodbyes and made his way back to his own car, avoiding the hard-core journalists that had waited for their little 'party' to end before slipping out of his parking space and driving off into the darkness. He had a lot to think about before reporting to the FBI building first thing in the morning.

***Meanwhile…***

Turning off the ignition to his black Chevy Suburban, Don sat still and counted to ten. He was knackered; what he really needed was sleep but he still had reports to go over and a budget report to compile for Nick in the morning…

It just seemed like there weren't enough hours in the day sometimes and Don hated to let Robin see that the pressure was slowly grinding him down. After all…he'd wanted the promotion. Hadn't he? Scrubbing his face with his hands, Don took a deep breath and counted to ten again. It had been a long day what with sorting out his files, convincing Nick to take the Burnett case and then actually getting Colby to hand off the Judge Tompkins case to Agent Danby… That had been an unpleasant conversation. Don hated to but he'd had to pull rank in the end. Colby had stormed out soon after and Don knew that he'd hurt his friend's feelings. What was it that they said? That it's lonely at the top…and Don couldn't feel lonelier right now if he tried.

Sometimes it felt like he was juggling so many balls and wearing so many different hats that Don was worried that if he stopped for a single moment and thought properly about any of it for long enough…he'd suddenly realise that it was all too much and crack. That's when his Skype sessions with Charlie came in handy. Don would pretend that he needed help on a case and Charlie would pretend that he didn't see the bags under his brother's eyes or the stress lines on his brow. Don knew that he didn't have to give his brother an incentive to talk to him; it was just that their conversations were so short and far between these days that Don often wondered if he wasn't losing his brother to England…

Undoing his tie altogether, Don pushed the thought to one side and grabbed his briefcase before climbing out of the car -he wasn't going to get anything done otherwise and Robin would be waiting up even though he had told her to go to bed hours ago. She always waited up for him and secretly he enjoyed telling her about his day, from the ridiculous to the sublime. Just her laughter was enough to brighten his day and he really needed it tonight.

Making the short walk from driveway to door, Don paused briefly to admire their new home. As soon as Robin had said yes to marrying him Don had convinced her that they should move in together and not just into her Condo but a real house, which was conveniently just down the street from his brother and father's home…

Opening the door, Don flicked the hallway lights on, straining his ears for sounds of Robin. He was rewarded by the sounds of clinking cutlery from further down the corridor; she never had been able to leave the washing up for the morning. It was just one of her many endearing qualities.

Moving to the kitchen door, Don leaned against the frame and watched his fiancée as she scrubbed hard at something in the sink. Her hair was falling out of the combs that held it high on her head. Several tendrils had fallen sexily down the back of her neck and Don longed to kiss her there. She had also lost the suit jacket and black pumps that she had been wearing earlier. Without them, Robin was a head shorter than him and would have to stand on her bare toes to kiss his mouth with hers. However, when Robin didn't turn to greet him like she usually would, Don grew worried. It wasn't like he had been quiet when he had entered the house…

"Rob?" Don asked concernedly. She didn't respond, however, instead her hands stopped scrubbing and held onto the side of the sink, white from the pressure. Entering the room properly, Don moved up behind her and turned her round to face him. She had red eyes from crying and tracks on her pink cheeks from her mascara. "Babe," he whispered as she bit her lip to stop the fresh tears from falling that were filling her large Disney green eyes.

"Don," Her voice cracked with grief as her fingers curled in his crumpled shirt.

"I know," He whispered, brushing back a long strand of hair that had stuck to her cheek. Shivering from his touch, Robin pressed her face to his chest. Her body shaking from her loud sobs. "I know," he sighed again as he rested his chin on her head and hugged her close. "It's going to be ok baby," He told her as he rubbed his hand on her back till her sobbing slowly subsided.

Rubbing at her nose, Robin waited thirty seconds before stepping back and turning away and taking the heat with her. "I'm so sorry," She said, her head shaking in disgust. She really hated showing weakness in front of him. It was adorable really.

"You never have to apologise to me," Don reminded her, causing her to look back over her shoulder, eyes wide with gratitude.

Taking her small hand in his large one, Don pulled her back to him, his mouth desperate to kiss hers.

"Oh God!" She shouted as she fought against his pull. "I've ruined your shirt!"

"I'll buy a new one." He whispered in her ear, his cheek pressed up against her soft hair before stooping down to kiss her exposed collar bone.

"Don," She laughed as he made a trail up her neck whilst his free hand reached up and pulled the combs from her hair.

"God I love you," He growled as her hands reached down and pulled his shirt from his trousers, before making their way underneath.

"I love you to," She smiled weakly, her lips brushing his as fresh tears made their way down her smooth cheeks. "Don?" She asked as he reached up and brushed them away.

"Yeah?"

"Never leave me…ok?" Her voice broke on the word ok and Don's heart broke with it.

"I'm not going anywhere," Don whispered, cupping her face in his hands as he drew her in for deep passionate kiss to prove as much. Running her hands through his unkempt hair, Robin moaned her want for him as Don backed her up against the hard worktop. Body arching to meet his, Robin wasn't surprised to feel his own need pressing into her side.

"Don," She half moaned half sighed his name as he stroked his hand down her body, his fingers making light work of undoing her blouse along the way.

"Robin?" He asked, hesitating for a moment to search her eyes with his. "Is this what you want?" He asked uncertainly. She was grieving for Connie after all. He didn't want to make her feel like she had to just because he was feeling incredibly aroused.

"I'm sure. Make love to me Don," She whispered huskily, her pupils already dilating with lust. "Right here," She smiled sexily as she patted the worktop behind her.

"God I've missed you," Don growled his pleasure as he quickly scooped her up and put her back down on the hard surface behind them, spreading her legs with his knee.

"Come home earlier then," She replied as she ripped his shirt open and pushed it down his strong arms, exposing his hairy chest.

Raking her fingers down his chest, Robin enjoyed the way his body shivered from her touch, until he couldn't take it any longer and unhooked her bra with a quick twist of his wrist.

"Mmm," She groaned in her throat as he took her small breasts in his hands and teased her body until all thought was impossible and they were completely lost in their mutual and shameless need to reconnect. "God that's good," She sighed breathily as she wound her legs around his hips, drawing him and his erection closer.

Running his fingers through her soft brown hair, Don brushed her lips with his once more, cursing as her trembling fingers made light work of his pants. Grabbing her hands as the cupped him, Don pulled them away and rested them on his hips instead. "It'll be over quickly if you carry on like that, love." Don smirked at his beautiful fiancée. "I plan to enjoy this…" Claiming her mouth with his once more, Don turning up the heat on the kiss, making further conversation impossible as the two fought to satisfy the other's need first.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

There is no other sound in the world more soul destroying than that of your alarm going off at stupid o'clock in the morning when your body, groggy from sleep, begs you for just another hour, minute or second of sleep. Going against his natural instinct to hit the snooze button or ignore the alarm altogether, Elliott sat up in bed, disturbing his wife in the process.

"What time is it?" She asked her voice thick with sleep as she rolled over to face her shattered husband. She wore a tightfitting cream lace nighty and had long brown hair that came down to her waist. There were the first signs of grey in her long plait but she refused to dye it. Claimed that it gave her character. Even in bed, messed up with sleep she was still sexy to Elliott.

"Early love," He leant down and whispered in her ear replying to her question, his breath intentionally tickling her neck.

Moving her head a fraction to the left, Karen Hayes kissed her husband passionately till he drew back, breathless and aroused. "I missed you last night," she told him sadly, her beautiful full mouth pouting downwards as she moved to rest her head on her left arm, Elliott watched transfixed as she moved. "Lucas missed you too," she added, not cruelly though the words still hurt all the same.

His son, Lucas, was fast approaching that age of self-awareness. If his dad wasn't there, he noticed and blamed himself. Elliott hated to let the little guy down and worse make him think it was because of something he'd done. Fortunately Lucas was also still at a bribe-able age, Elliott still had time to fix this, he knew he did. After all there were plenty of detectives that were also successful fathers…right? Elliott had to hope so. He loved his wife and kid more than anything in the world. The last thing he wanted was to hurt either of them intentionally.

"I was at a crime scene," Elliott told her, though he knew that he should have called last night to tell her he'd be home late. It wasn't like she would have stayed up waiting for him, those days were long gone, but she would have gone to bed mad and Elliott hated leaving his wife in bed alone. What could he do though? Late nights, cancelled dinner reservations and missed anniversaries were just the nature of the beast. He tried to make it up to her where and when he could.

"Was it the LA Child Snatcher again? Did you find the little girl?" She asked, her voice quivering at the thought of another dead child. Naturally he had a policy of not discussing cases with his wife, not just because he couldn't divulge the details of an on-going investigation, but also to shield her from some of the evil out there. Most crime scenes he was called to were stranger than fiction, grisly acts of inane violence. Nevertheless, everyone knew about the case of the LA child Snatcher because it was huge in the press right now, television and newspaper alike.

"Yes Hun," He lay back down, leaning his head on his right arm to face her. She had tears on her cheeks and in her beautiful brown eyes. Reaching across the small divide in the bed, Elliott cupped his wife's face in his hand, using his thumb to wipe away her tears. "I'm going to catch him though," He told her, sounding more confident than he felt. "The FBI is on the case now, which means more resources for me and Brian. The LA Child Snatcher, whoever he may be, doesn't stand a chance."

"I believe in you," She replied, nodding her head with complete faith in his abilities. More faith than he had or deserved. After all had he been a good detective he would have solved it before the FBI had become involved. He didn't want to, he was a humble man by nature, but a small sliver of him couldn't help feeling rankled that he wasn't in charge anymore. He liked and respected Special Agent Granger. He even looked forward to seeing what he and his team could bring to the table, it didn't mean he had to be too happy about it though…right?

"What's wrong love?" Karen asked, reading him like a book. It constantly amazed him how she knew his mind so well. He'd asked her once and she had simply replied that he had an honest face, whatever that meant.

"I don't know…I just think about you and Lucas and how this man is destroying families just like ours. Sure they were all dysfunctional and there is always some degree of neglect…but Michael Burnett…how he moves on from here, I don't envy him is all."

"You're a good man Elliott Hayes and Lucas and I aren't going anywhere. So you do whatever it takes to find and stop this man. Then come back to us," She reached across the space and curled her fingers in his ample chest hair.

Smiling, comforted by her touch, Elliott moved on top of his wife and whispered "How did I ever deserve you?" on her lips before kissing her thoroughly.

"You just got lucky I guess," She laughed, her laugh was like the tinkling of silver bells and if his alarm clock was the most soul destroying sound in the world her laughter was easily the most soul restoring sound he knew of.

No longer tired he growled, "Damn straight I did," as he claimed her mouth once more with his, his hand roaming the familiar contours of her body. His touch aroused and excited her till she arched to meet his erection.

Raking her fingers down his strong shoulders, Karen gasped as he reached down and pulled the nighty up round her waist. It was hardly the sleekest or sexiest of moves but fortunately after fifteen years of marriage she still wanted it.

Helping him get the tight lingerie over her head she reminded him, "Don't forget to check in on Lucas before you leave." Before succumbing to his mouth and the pleasure it incited.

*7:00 a.m.,

The FBI Offices*

Stepping out of the comfort of the small lift on the nineteenth floor, Elliott watched amazed as at least a dozen agents made an early start to the day. At the LAPD an early start meant nine, ten o'clock. _Don't these people have homes to go to?_ Elliott shook his head sadly. It was just another thing to be intimidated by. These men and women meant business, not that they didn't at the LAPD…this was just a higher class of determination than Elliott was used to.

The large office itself was a giant open planned room fitted with several square partitions that could fit four or more desks per cubicle. Elliott supposed that they were cordoned off according to the different teams and sure enough he quickly identified the two agents, hunched over an overburdened desk to the centre of the room, as Agents Chase and Granger. It was only upon reaching the chest height frosted glass walls of the cubicle that Elliott noticed the two women at the two desks facing him.

"Morning," Colby gave the detective a lazy and somewhat tired smile, which was nothing compared to Will's that turned into a large lion's roar of a yawn. He looked half asleep on the desk that Colby was perching on. He was still wearing the same blue striped shirt as the day before and his golden locks looked like they had been finger combed several times in the last few hours. He could only assume that Agent Chase had come back to the office after their meeting and worked through the night on the killer's profile. Elliott was impressed, it showed a level of commitment that he hadn't expected from the rookie after their first meeting and he was intrigued to see what he would have added to their own LAPD profile.

"Elliott this is Agents Nikki Bentancourt and Liz Warner. Nikki, Liz, this is Detective Elliott Hayes of the LAPD." Colby introduced Elliott to the two women in the crowded booth.

"We've met before," Nikki told Colby, getting up to shake Elliott's clammy hand. "We worked a murder in china town together a couple of years back. It's good to see you detective," Nikki smiled easily at Elliott. He'd known she'd looked familiar but his memory wasn't what it once was and he was embarrassed to say he hardly remembered her, although she was defiantly a woman that demanded attention. He could only assume this was a magic trait that they gave out upon joining the FBI because she, like the other three, defiantly made Elliott sweat. He'd hate to think how a perp must feel stuck in an interrogation room with them.

"Hi," Elliott replied to Nikki as he perched on what he presumed was Colby's desk. She had an untameable afro of shoulder length curls, light brown skin, small round eyes and full pink glossy lips. She was also wearing large hooped earrings, a silk sea green shirt, black trousers and leopard print pumps. Her partner, Liz Warner, who mumbled a quick hello before delving back into the report in her hand, was more classically good looking than Nikki. Nikki looked streetwise and carried herself like a woman who had lived in and managed to survive the ghetto. Liz on the other hand, sat like a model with nothing to prove and oblivious to her beauty. She certainly made an odd FBI agent, with long wavy brown/black hair that looked silky to the touch; brown almond shaped eyes and tanned skin. Her mouth was painted a deep red to match her eye shadow, sundress and pumps. There was, however, a grim determination to the way Liz's jaw clenched and her hands clamped the report she was holding. Elliott could only assume she was acquainting herself with the case.

"What time does the briefing start?" Elliott asked Colby, who sat on Chase's desk, swinging his legs idly.

"In ten minutes," Nikki replied, collecting a few reports from her desk before gesturing at him to follow her. "We're waiting for the AD and SAIC before we begin," She whispered to him confidingly as they walked down two long corridors with glass walled rooms on either side. The scale of the building alone was impressive, but their interrogation rooms and side offices were equally so. He was mesmerized by the low lighting and the mass of different Agents, which were all moving swiftly down the long corridors or collaborating across office spaces at such an early hour. Clearly the FBI liked to get an early jump on the day, which Elliott could respect. More amazing still was that Nikki seemed to know most of them. How she kept all the names straight in her head Elliott didn't know. What he did observe was that the soft click of her printed pumps got heads turning and the men smiling, as she strutted to the FBI bullpen.

Entering the large oval shaped room, Elliott and Nikki found seats together at the back of the room. Most of the people looked as tired as Elliott but there was a crackle of excitement in the spacious office. It was infectious and Elliott found himself flexing his fingers in anticipation.

"Forgive me Detective," Nikki squeezed his arm in apology. "I have to see Matt about my computer." Getting up, Nikki walked towards a foreign looking man who had just entered the bullpen and started working on a large cinematic sized interactive board at the front of the briefing room. Elliott was surprised to see the reports, his reports of the case on the large screen. Someone had clearly been up late last night scanning them all.

"Wow," He whispered to no one in particular. "At the LAPD we just use whiteboards." He didn't mean to sound like a jealous, sulking teenager but he couldn't help it a small part of him still wasn't completely happy about the merger.

"We have those too," Agent Ian Edgerton replied from behind. Elliott hadn't even noticed him there and was embarrassed that he'd been caught out.

"Good morning Agent Edgerton," Elliott smiled at the man. He was sat, leaning back in a swivel chair, feet on the table, completely at ease and yet…there was a readiness about him, his body was tense and poised, ready for action.

"Morning and call me Ian," He winked, his eyes filled with mischief as he watched over the room. He was dressed today in a pressed white shirt, black suit pants and expensive black loafers. Where he had gotten the fresh clothes from, Elliott didn't know. Edgerton just looked too polished for having spent a night in the woods and the mystery of it intrigued him.

"Morning guys," Brian greeted the unlikely pair as he plonked himself down in Nikki's empty seat.

"Hey," Elliott smiled warmly at his partner.

"God, Not you too! Was I the _only_ one not to get laid last night?" Brian replied a little too loudly, generating odd glances and drawing attention to them.

"What?" Elliott hissed as Ian laughed loudly, he clearly found it amusing, unlike Elliott.

"What?" Brian shrugged his shoulders unashamed. "People here are far _too_ happy for…" he checked his watch. "…For _seven_ in the morning. Shit, I didn't even know seven had a morning." Sighing sadly, clearly put out, Brian took a long sip from his steaming cup of coffee. "This is seriously great coffee man," He added, saluting Ian with his mug.

"You know I don't actually work here right?" Ian raised a single brow, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards.

"You don't?" Brian asked amazed.

"Technically I consult," Ian replied thoughtfully as Elliott turned to watch the room. Two new people had just walked in followed closely by Colby, Liz and Will. One was tall with thick black unruly hair, brown eyes and a pressed black suit. The other was a fraction smaller, with ash blond hair that was cropped close to his head. He was wearing a white open collared shirt and tan suit. Both stood together at the head of the room whilst Colby and the others filled various empty seats around them.

"Hi everybody," The taller man greeted the room brightly; Brian was right, it was just too much for seven o'clock in the morning. "I'm SAIC Don Eppes and this is AD Nick Callaghan. I'd like to start by welcoming Detectives Hayes and Hamilton to the team," Don gestured to Elliott and Brian at the back of the room, both of which sunk a little deeper in their seats, discomforted by the number of heads that turned to regard them curiously. "I'd like to start by saying that the LA Child Snatcher has been up graded to a priority one case. The body of his third victim was found last night and whilst we wait for Dr Claudia Gomez to finish conducting the autopsy, I'd like to make sure that everyone is up to speed on the case. Right now, he could be stalking his next victim. We have no time to waste, so with that sentiment in mind…who wants to kick off this briefing properly?" Don Eppes looked around at all the uncomfortable faces in front of him, no one willing to meet his eye.

"Detective Hayes, how about you bring us up to date on the case?" Nick Callaghan asked, though it was more of a request. He had a kind boyish face, but his eyes were all business and Elliott couldn't imagine refusing the man.

"Yes…well of course…" Elliott stammered as he stood too quickly, knocking his leg on the table in his rush and shuffled to the front of the room. Public speaking was not a problem, he had given thousands of briefings to his own team; but these agents…they were an intense bunch and they were all staring at him. It chilled him to think that he might make a fool of himself in front of these people that he didn't know and would most likely never meet again. It was only Ian's friendly smile and Brian's thumbs up that kept him from tripping over himself in a rush to get his part over with.

"_Just forget everyone else," his wife Karen would say. "It's just you and me baby. Tell me what happened, exactly."_

Finding his voice, Elliott informed the tough crowd: "The first victim, Ellie Wilson was taken from a downtown park two blocks from her family home and then buried on a popular jogging trail across town." He stopped to point at two red dots on the large map on the interactive board.

"Taken from a park and buried on a jogging trail across town…" Nick repeated confused. "What do the locations have in common? A park and a popular jogging trail. There's something in that…I just…I can't put my finger on it."

"It's not uncommon," Don cut in. "The moves of a serial perp are defined by his needs. He watches the potential victim, avoiding detection. He'll frequent public areas in this case parks that don't have a lot of traffic, waiting for moments of isolation. Serial offenders cover a wide region but rarely commit crimes near their homes. It's like a buffer zone to them and it varies in size in the early stages but does begin to stabilize. These guys follow patterns. Like taking from a park and burying on a jogging trail. What doesn't add up is why our serial killer is risking his invisibility to bury the victims on busy footpaths?"

"What about the families?" Nikki asked, opening her report to the first family.

"Ellie Wilson's mother and father, Gaye and Adam Wilson are professors at the 'University of California'. Both reported her missing the same day as the kidnapping. She was murdered a week later but the body itself was not recovered until three weeks later across town." Elliott replied.

"So he actually only had her _a_ _week_?" A young agent from the front asked.

"A week is a long time to a parent without their child," Elliott bit back at the man's incredulity. "We presumed that the child was dead when no ransom was called for…that was the hardest part for the parents…knowing that whoever has you're your child has other…designs for them. It's hard to keep hope after suffering that blow…" Elliott looked down morosely, remembering the mother's; Gaye's frantic screaming when the days passed and the hours ticked on and sill no call came.

"Not long after the discovery of Ellie Wilson, our second victim Faye Larson was taken from a park close to her home," Brian carried on for Elliott, getting up and tapping the other red dot on the map. "The mother is a waitress and the father is unemployed. There are no social connections between the girls or their families. They don't go to the same school, have the same hobbies or go to the same malls or parks. These two girls have never met, or spoken to one another. They live on the opposite sides of town and are in two different leagues socially. They might as well live countries apart for every detail that separates the two girls from each other. The same applies to Connie. The only things these girls share are their looks and the type of place that they are found. Both Connie Burnett and Faye Larson were also taken from a park near their home and buried later on a public footpath…"

"…The main difference between the victims is the killer's time frame," Elliott cut in. "Faye was kept a week, murdered and then discovered _two weeks_ later."

"The latest victim though," Ian said from his corner of the room, making a couple agents in front jump from his loud commanding voice. "She was taken and then killed _two weeks_ later…showing the step up in MO…but she was found how long after that?"

"She was discovered a week later," Elliott replied, meeting the intimidating man's thoughtful eyes.

"So each victim is found a week earlier than the last…" Ian laid it out loud for them all. "Do we have pictures?"

"Yes," The IT tech jumped up, swiftly flicking the map to one side as he tapped the board and brought up the three images. The first was of a small white flower next to a hole that had been dug by a runner's dog that had smelt the corpse. The second was of a small white flower next a couple of tiny fingers reaching out of the ground. The third was the same except that it was an entire hand.

"Either he's getting sloppier…" Don stated.

"…Or he's been making the corpses easier to find." Nick finished, his fists clenched tightly on the desk that he was perched.

"Did you ever discover the significance of the flower?" Liz asked her voice soft and quiet, hardly above a whisper.

"No," Brian shook his head embarrassed as he dug his hands into his suit pockets. It wasn't like they had the resources or a flower database that they could magically consult. They had tried to find the flower but in the end the captain had told them to come back to it.

"We visited several boutique flower shops that deal with rare plants but none of them could identify the flower," Elliott added, defending themselves from the murmuring crowd.

"That's because it isn't rare," Ian leaned forward, resting his head in his hands as his statement sent the crowd murmuring once more.

"Ian," Don asked loudly, motioning with his hands and silencing the crowd. "Do you know what the flower is?"

"It's the 'Mohavea Confertiflora' more commonly known as the 'Ghost Flower'. It grows in the Mojave and Sonoran deserts of south-eastern California to southern Nevada and western Arizona. Like the Snapdragon and Penstemon, the Ghost Flower is a member of the Figwort Family. It is an erect annual which grows four to sixteen inches high and derives its name from the ghostly translucency of its flowers," Ian replied impressing everyone in the room. "You forget," He told his stunned audience, "I know practically every inch of the country including its flora and fauna. It's just what I do."

"Huh," Will replied thoughtfully when no one else moved. "That would really make sense…"

"How's that?" Elliott asked curiously as Will scrambled through his scattered notes.

"Remember what I said last night?" Will asked ignoring the room full of people. It was just the two of them, fighting to understand. "Organised serial killers plan their crimes methodically, abducting their victims and killing them in one place and then disposing of the body in another. He has to have a reasonable knowledge of forensics and _his environment_ to enable him to control the crime scene and cover his tracks. This flower is significant to him and he has to have knowledge of flowers, the irony of the 'ghost flower' it's too huge for him to have picked it just because it's a pretty local flower."

"So he is laying the bodies to rest with a ghost flower to what? Mark the passing?" Nikki asked, struggling to follow.

"Almost," Will smiled feverishly, caught up in the excitement of it all. "Serial killer profiling 101: Most have daddy issues or mummy issues, either way nine times out of ten the killer will have been abused as a child…" He looked pointedly around the room. When no one replied he added, "…just like our victims."

"You think that's what links them?" Colby asked, speaking for the first time.

"Maybe," Will replied.

"If it is…it's not the only link," Ian added. "He knew them, chose them. Their paths crossed at some point, we just have to figure out _where_."

"But the flower?" Nikki asked again, drawing Will's attention back to her.

"Yes…the flower. Right, well I think he identifies with his victims. He's like a vigilante for child abuse."

"Except that he's murdering the children…" Liz reminded them all.

"What you have to remember is that our 'killer' is broken. He is separate from you and I. We know that killing the child isn't helping but to him, he has an entirely different logic system. It's like at the Salem witch trials. They burnt the witches to purify their souls. To save them. For him perhaps…this is how he purifies them from the abuse. After all he was probably in the foster system at some stage of his life," When Ian opened his mouth to object, Will cut him off. "I'm not blaming the foster system. I'm just saying that there are a lot of children that falls through the cracks. If he just highlighted the abuse that's where the child would go."

"So in his mind he's protecting them…" Brian scratched his chin thoughtfully.

"Exactly," Will smiled relieved that someone had got it. "The flower," he turned to address Nikki. "I believe that the flower is his symbol of his remorse. He thinks what he has done is right but he still feels grief for their passing."

"That's twisted," Nikki replied outraged for the victims.

"That's the mind of a serial killer," Ian smiled sadly.

"Ok. So we know the semi-why on the flowers, though I still agree with Ian that it must have significance _personally_ for our killer but why the outfits?" Don asked as he tapped on the interactive board to bring up the images of each child's body.

"It's his way of conversing with us," Ian sighed as he leant back in his chair, feet on the desk once more. "All of it is. The flower is his sort of apology which is why he plants them at the head of the grave and in the hands of the victim. The outfit will be specific to an event or person in his life, whilst the hand out of the grave was his way of speeding up the whole process. He can't bear to dump the body so he buries them, but he wants us to find them hence the hand and the _popular_ jogging trail. Like you were saying, he risks his invisibility so that the victim, but more importantly the abuse, is found. The second victim, Faye Larson, was abused by him. Your preliminary thoughts were that he was stepping up his violence. Claudia's further inspection of the abused areas at autopsy revealed_ previous_ signs of abuse, fractured bones, hidden bruises that sort of thing. He was telling us that this little girl was getting knocked around and _he _helped her, but that it falls on us to catch her abuser."

"Which we did, it was her father," Brian told Ian who nodded in return.

"So if that's the case then Connie Burnett was probably abused as well," Elliott replied horrified. Besides the suffocating she hadn't looked like she had been abused but then it was dark out…

"You're spot on detective," Claudia told them all from the doorway causing the small group of agents to turn around. "Connie Burnett was sexually abused and closer examination showed _previous_ signs of abuse."

"Shit," Don whispered angrily. "Robin is going to hate me."

"Why?" Nick asked confused.

"Because now I have to go and ask Assistant District Attorney Michael Burnett if he was sexually abusing his daughter." Don told him as he buried his face in his hands.

"That's rough buddy, but I will leave solving that element of the case to you as you have some standing with the family. We can't assume it's Michael just yet but nor can we rule him out because he's the ADA," Nick replied before returning his attention to the other Agents and the two Detectives. "Ok, lets recap folks as there's been a lot of information thrown at us in the space of…shit an hour. The LA Child Snatcher takes similar looking girls, abuses them to show signs of abuse and then dresses them up in a way that is significant to a person of event in his life. Liz, I want you to look at past crimes see if the MO matches any. Also check for a link with the white flower I want to know_ exactly _why it's significant to our perp."

"Yes sir," She replied as she made a note on one of the files in front of her.

"What else do we know?" Nick asked of the others.

"We know how he's killing the victims. Hand over the mouth and he'd improving his style too. The tox screen did reveal narcotics," Claudia replied taking a seat next to Liz.

"There's also the nanny angle," Colby replied hesitantly.

"What angle?" Don asked confused.

"All victims were with their nanny at the time of kidnap," Elliott replied for Colby. "Now I think about it. It's certainly an odd choice for your 'lying in wait for a moment of isolation' theory. Except we know that in each case the nanny was neglectful in some way. We know this because of the interviews with the other nannies. If they were neglectful enough to let the killer snatch the child then they might have been neglectful at other moments too. In these moments our victims could have come into contact with the killer at the park and another nanny might have seen it."

"We need to re-interview the nannies. Maybe one saw something or someone in the days leading up to the attack," Colby agreed.

"Ok, Elliott and Colby you follow up with the nannies. Take Ian he'll be able to draw a picture of the perp if anyone saw anything," Nick turned his attention on Ian. "Ian, you had a lead for us?"

"Yes sir. I found some old tracks at least a week old at the crime scene," Ian sat a little straighter when addressing the AD. "They were a work man's boot size eleven. I followed them back to the car park to a set of tracks for a small van or pickup. A coffee shop across the road, where coincidentally witness Tessa Mawby works, had CCTV footage which revealed a white van arrive stay awhile and then leave a week prior to the burial. I have a print out of the truck but sadly there are no defining characteristics. So nothing we can put an APB out on."

"At least we now know two defining characteristics about our killer when previously we had none. Well done Ian," The AD praised him. "What about anything else?" Nick turned to Elliott. "Have we missed anything out of the briefing?"

"Just the brands, sir," Elliott told him shyly.

"Yes the brands!" Don shook his head vigorously. "What's that all about?" He looked from Elliott to Will.

"Well," Will answered. "Branding is usually about possession. By branding the child he asserts his possession like they belong to him. Death is just the ultimate form of possession but we know that's not what he's doing by killing them. No the branding must have a significance. It's just hard to determine what that significance is for a psychopath."

"We thought that it meant that Ellie Wilson was the eighth victim at first but when Faye Larson turned up with the same brand…well we assume it's the number of victims he intends to kill…now I'm just not sure what to think or believe," Elliott replied honestly.

"I wish Charlie was here," Don sighed sadly. "Numbers are his thing…maybe we should call on Larry?"

"I don't know," Colby replied. "After his mistake on the Tompkins's case…well he said he wanted space and then left for the monastery."

Elliott didn't know who they were talking about. He could only assume that 'Charlie' was a good agent known for running the numbers. Everyone looked so sad and wistful that Elliott felt a little regret that this 'Charlie' was…well where ever he was… Turning to look at Ian, Elliott noticed that his expression was different from the others. There was sadness there and a sense of loss or loneliness. As quickly as it was there, however, Elliott watched as the mask went back up and Ian was back to his usual cheerful, cocky and mischievous self.

"Ok guys, let's get on with the case," Nick told everyone, clapping his hands in anticipation. "Nikki, help Liz with determining the MO. Will, I want you and Brian to look into the clothes. They are identical except for sizes. He has to have bought them somewhere, track it down. Colby, Ian and Elliott I want you all to re-interview the nannies. Find us something…anything. Don, look into the sex abuse angle. The rest will receive your orders soon. For now stay on your current cases, but be prepared to drop everything for this one. It's priority one so I don't want any whining or you'll answer to the director!"

"Yes sir!" They all replied before dispersing to get on with their set assignments.

*Gatwick Airport,

England*

Standing by the tall window, Charlie watched as the plane that would take him back to America pulled into the small terminal. It had been a whirlwind of a few hours and tired, dishevelled and sporting a day's growth of beard, Charlie just longed to be home already. It was eleven o'clock in England so…about four in the afternoon in LA. After the eleven hour flight Charlie would come off the plane in LAX around ten a.m. He'd catch a cab. No point worrying or dealing with family until he was there, face to face…one on one. That way it might be somewhat bearable… Oh, who was he kidding? It was never going to be easy or smooth and _bearable?_ Yeah right! There would be tears and tantrums from him and questions, so many questions from his family... God, Charlie was not ready for the endless questions!

Shaking his head angrily, Charlie raked his fingers through his messy curls. How had it come to this? When had this become his life? No, a better question was how he had become _that_ guy? He hated _that_ guy! God, what a mess. Or in British: 'what a pickle'!

Checking his watch, a gift from Ian after the whole prison thing, Charlie sighed audibly at the time and drummed his hands on his stiff legs from standing too long. _This is what you get_, he thought self-deprecatingly, _when you spontaneously decide to up and leave with no fixed plans! _

He had arrived at the airport and the next flight was delayed by eight hours. There was no way he was going back to Cambridge so he had gone through all the checks and sat patiently at his gate for the last seven hours thinking he could lose himself in a maths problem or a good book…neither of which had helped. At least there was only an hour left. It just grated that he could have practically been home in the time that he had sat there, stewing. There was nothing for it though. It wasn't like he could speed up time or use the force to get the plane ready any quicker…

Accepting fate, Charlie sat down once more. He had waited seven hours, he could wait another twelve. Anything to just be home again. In a familiar setting with the people he held dearest…that was all he really wanted. Sighing again, Charlie slunk lower in his seat, tipped his head back against the rest and tried to sleep the last hour away.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_*"Thing about snipers is that we love it…and that's not a guess either. It's a fact."_

_-Ian Edgerton: Season 1, episode 9: Sniper Zero*  
_

A sniper's greatest strength is his invisibility. Worry about losing it and your heart rate increases. Don't know how to handle it and your breathing rhythm is thrown off. Sweat in the eyes, hands cramping, adrenaline twitching the barrel-It takes a cool head and an experienced shooter to take out a moving target at such a distance in the dark, fortunately Agent Ian Edgerton was an experienced shooter.

Lying prone on the ground, Ian pressed his eye to the scope and searched the shooting range before him. It had been Colby's suggestion that a few of them come here to blow off a little steam after an afternoon of failure. Canvasing the nannies had proved futile and what had started as optimism had soon turned to frustration.

How long he lay there for, Ian couldn't tell. Judging by the complaints behind him it had been at least ten minutes. Being a sniper, however, was a waiting game. Push out the background noise, it's just you and the gun and Ian never settled for a subpar shot. What the others didn't know, as they hadn't the patience to wait, was that the target was on a loop. No two loops the same but every third loop repeated. It was on that third loop that Ian adjusted his position slightly and watched as the target peeked out from behind the range.

It amused Ian how people often thought that a sniper was removed from his target, that it would be easier to pull the trigger from such a distance away… One man had even gone as far as to call Ian a coward. What they couldn't understand, what even Charlie hadn't been able to understand when they had first met, was that a scoped rifle was the equivalent of Ian staring the man in the eye before shoving a knife between his ribs. He would be able to see every whisker on the target's bearded chin. He could tell if they were left of right handed and once he had taken his shot he would see the light as it went out in their eyes, the blood as it pooled from the little round hole the size of a quarter that he would make in the target's left temple…yes, he was that good.

Releasing the safety catch, Ian made sure of his angle, pointing it ahead of the target to where he knew it would be in two minutes time. It wasn't the cleanest angle and the way was partially obscured by a brick wall but Ian was in no hurry. Since leaving the army, Ian was more used to hunting targets, chasing them, backing them into a corner, than waiting for them to come to him. He hadn't lost his patience though. Being a sniper was all about the thrill. The thrill was in being invisible, waiting, watching as you line up the shot that will change lives, your prey helpless and unaware of the danger nearby…the adrenaline rush afterwards… Being a sniper was and always would be his first love. It was what he had been trained to do andhe had worked damn hard to get where he was today. Ranked third in the country for his skills, Ian locked in on his target. It wasn't an easy shot to make for an amateur but for Ian? Failure didn't even cross his mind.

Body tense, Ian levelled his breathing before curling his right index finger on the trigger. Taking a deep breath in, Ian released it. Breathed in, he released it again. On the third breath, Ian exhaled and counted to three. He pulled the trigger on two. It was called the empty lung technique and once more, Ian had nailed the shot. Not moving an inch, he watched as the target board crumpled backwards to the ground. Behind him he could hear his companions celebratory cheering. Getting up, Ian left the range passing his rifle off to Elliott who was staring at him with awe in his eyes. Ian was used to it from his teaching days at Quantico, however, being used to it was not the same as being comfortable with it. Ian was grateful when Colby offered to talk Elliott, a sniper virgin, through the basics and walked him off onto the range.

Slipping the headphones off his ears, Ian accepted the beer that Don held out for him. "Thanks," He saluted with the ice cold beer.

"Hell of a shot," Don smiled from his perch on a wooden bench that gave him a clear view of the shooting range.

"It's what I do," Ian shrugged off his friends praise. Don had been weird all day and Ian had a sinking suspicion he knew why. "Nick told you…didn't he?" Ian leaned back against the opposite wall thankful for the darkness; Ian had always been more comfortable in the shadows.

"He told me that you handed him your letter of resignation, something about this being your last case?" Don rested his head against the cool plaster of the wall, searching his friend's face. If he had expected a reaction then he would be disappointed because Ian rarely lost his cool. He had spent too many years in Afghanistan, Quantico and then hunting unpredictable fugitives to be startled by Don's bluntness.

"That's right," Ian sighed sadly. He had hoped to avoid such conversations till nearer the time. "This will be my last case."

"But why?" Don asked imploringly. "What's changed Ian?"

"I have," He whispered, he wasn't used to over the top displays of emotions. Everything about him, his personality to his job had to be measured. You don't become a sniper ledged by letting emotions in. If he did he wouldn't be able to make the shot. Heart rate too fast, breathing rapid, sweat in the eyes, hands cramping, adrenaline twitching the barrel… Can't make the shot? Then you definitely shouldn't be on the range. Emotions made you weak; they exposed snipers…to give in to them now? Ian might as well pack up and go home. His only problem was deciding where that was.

"What?" Don asked unsure he had heard right.

"Do you remember a few years back when we were chasing Crystal Hoyle and you asked me if I ever worry that I get tunnel vision on a hunt?" Ian couldn't quite meet Don's eyes.

"Yes. I told you that being on a manhunt for too long messed me up…changed me." Don nodded at the memory. "That I eventually realised that I just needed to get out of that game whilst I was still sane."

"Well now it's time that I get out of the game too." Ian crossed his arms menacingly.

"Is this about your recent trip to Afghanistan?" Don asked confused. "Because if _I_ remember correctly you told me that hunting didn't change you, it _chose _you."

"Yes…no…I don't know…" Turning his back on Don, Ian looked out over the range. It was his life, his home…it was who he was. He wasn't like everybody else. He didn't work in an office, come home and watch the latest episode of American Idol. He had very few hobbies and was socially oblivious of such things as Facebook or Twitter. No, the second his old army instructor had taken him into the large ammunition cupboard and gestured at the huge arsenal inside, telling him 'to just pick one'…Ian had known. He would never be like everyone else. He was destined for greater things and seeing the scoped rifle on the wall…well it had been love at first 'site'… God, just the weight and feel of a rifle in his hands…it was no longer a tool to him but an extension of his body, his arms, his hands, his eyes…but now? Doubt was a snipers worse enemy…and Ian was riddled with it.

"Ian…what happened over there?"

"It's classified Eppes," Ian turned back to Don to see if he'd object, instead he just looked thoughtful. "Look shit happened out there that I'm not proud of. But I did my job, the mission was a success. Officially and unofficially, that's all you'll get from me."

"So that's it? I can't change your mind?" Don downed his beer and reached for a new one.

"I'm tired Don. You reach a certain age and you start re-evaluating your life… I just feel like I need to do this for _me_…I'm sick of chasing people across country, _of living in a tent_…I need a change." Sipping his beer Ian turned back to watch Elliott hit a target, it wasn't perfect but it was still a good shot. For a moment, Ian stood watching as Colby laughed and slapped Elliott on the back encouragingly before switching places. The range was where he came to think, he felt at ease here.

"What about working with us permanently?" Don asked after several moments of silence.

"What do you mean?"

"My old job as team leader, would that be something you'd interested in?" Don asked thoughtfully. He hadn't felt right about those other candidates, but Ian…well he was perfect for the position.

"I don't-"

"-you don't have to answer straight away," Don rushed to cut Ian off. "Sit with it for a couple days. _Please_, just think about it. You're the best agent I know…"

"Thanks man," Ian smiled. "But you should probably check it with the team first before offering the job to any old Tom, Dick or Harry…not everyone would be happy with it."

"You're more loved than you give yourself credit. I saw the way the two detectives have taken to you and Will worships you. I think you'd be surprised at how happy Colby would be to give up the paperwork and you and Nikki are cool now right?" Don joined Ian at the window, watching Elliott high-five Colby for his good shot.

"They aren't who I meant," Ian mumbled under his breath, His mind miles away as he absently smiled at Don to appease him but already knowing that regretfully he'd have to turn the role down. Things were just too messy, which was a shame too as Ian didn't have much family, just his adoptive father Kevin. He could have liked LA…

"Right, I'm going to go show them how it's done!" Don put down his beer and put his head phones back on. "You coming?"

"Be right there," Ian smiled, preferring the security of the darkness. He had a lot to think about first.

*Break*

Pulling his red Chevy Impala to a halt outside of Don's two story imitation craftsman home, Elliott turned the ignition off and looked at his new 'boss' for the foreseeable future. As much as Elliott hated to admit it, he'd had fun tonight and had made some interesting new friends in the process. Colby was just so approachable, down to earth and patient, he'd made a great sniper instructor and as for Ian, so quiet, so reclusive and yet witty and charming. His endless stories were truly fascinating. That man had been everywhere and had really _lived_. Having never been outside of the states, Elliott loved hearing about the world through Ian's intelligent and soulful eyes. There was definitely a sadness there though, Elliott was sure of that now.

Don on the other hand…he confused Elliott, mostly because he couldn't figure him out. He was the boss and yet he sat back and drank beers at the shooting range like one of the guys. Granted, it probably wasn't the smartest of past times, but Elliott had stayed sober and confiscated the rifle along with Don's keys when he had nearly taken his foot clean off. _You'd never catch the captain doing that_…Elliott couldn't help but compare the two, the thought was just ridiculous.

"Thanks man," Don smiled at Elliott when he realised that the car had stopped outside his home.

"It nothing," Elliott shrugged, he didn't mind really. He didn't live far from here and Don had been in no fit state to walk let alone drive. Colby had called a cab and well Ian…Elliott didn't know where he put it all because he was shooting as clearly at the end of the night as he was at the beginning. Either way he had chosen to walk and had been the first to leave. Where to, was anyone's guess.

"No seriously!" Don put a hand on Elliott's heavy shoulder and squeezed. "I was pleased to hear that you'd agreed to collaborate on the case. Your files were faultless. You didn't do anything that I wouldn't have done and you didn't not do anything that I would have done…does that make any sense?" Don slurred slightly.

"I think so…"

"…Good! Cause it was nothing personal…you know how it is, I only took the case as a favour to a friend," Don frowned as he tried to explain. "You're a good detective, through…I like that!"

It was strange, at the beginning of the day Elliott had still been mad about having the case snatched away but now? Now he looked forward to working with these men. They were brilliant, remarkable and fun guys. Elliott had gotten into some bad habits of late and looked forward to the challenge that this case and these people presented. After a weird night of bonding Elliott didn't feel like the odd one out anymore. He felt…well just like one of the team. It was refreshing and exciting all rolled into one and Elliott was excited to see what tomorrow would bring despite their setback with the nannies.

"I don't doubt it," Elliott smiled. "Do you need help?" He pointed at Don's house.

"I can make it…I think…" Opening the door, Don climbed out, briefly waving behind him before stumbling up the well-lit driveway. Only when he had gotten his keys in the lock the second time did Elliott drive away, leaving Don to grope his way down the dark hallway to his bedroom because he couldn't find the light switch in the dark. Robin was already asleep, having been assured a couple of hours ago that he would be home presently and not to wait up.

Sitting on his side of the bed, Don pulled his loosened tie off completely and threw it at the laundry basket in the corner. It missed but Don didn't care, he was just so tired and making a mess of undoing his shirt buttons… Pulling the shirt from his trousers, Don pulled the loose fitting shirt over his head and missed the basket once more. Next came the trousers. Those he just let fall wherever his tired legs could kick them before ducking under the double thick duvet.

Despite his inebriated state he was not finding it very easy to sleep. Thoughts of Connie Burnett and confronting Michael kept swirling round and round in his head. He hadn't known how to tell Robin so he just hadn't. There had just been no point upsetting her further until he knew more. Besides, he and Nick had wasted half the day just ensuring that they'd have a warrant should they need for one arise and Don knew that Robin would tip Michael off if she knew too soon…that and he was a complete and utter wuss. Honestly, Don didn't know how the defendants stayed calm in the dock in the face of her ice cold rage. Don was just glad he would never need to find out!

Sighing, Don snuggled up close to his peaceful, and right now agreeable, wife as she rolled up to him in her sleep, her arm flopping over his wide chest in the process. He liked the weight of it there. Just knowing she was there; breathing in the fresh scent of her was reassuring to his unsettled stomach and mind. How she could have such an effect on him just by laying comatose beside him he did not know. Perhaps it was for the best that they were getting married, Don hated to think of falling asleep and waking up without her next to him! Holding her close, Don closed his eyes and waited for sleep or the sun, whichever would come first. Fortunately for him it was sleep.

*Break*

Standing under the white house's large arched porch Don rang the doorbell as he surveyed the rest of the Burnett home. There were large manicured lawns and an apple tree in the front yard, with a simple paved pathway leading to the front door. The porch was held high by two towering pillars and the windows were decorated with beautiful flowerboxes and green shutters. Michael clearly put a lot of effort into the presentation of his home and its flawlessness put others in the neighbourhood to shame. Don couldn't help but feel that its easy splendour and rich charm was no place for a young child.

"Don?" Michael asked startled when he opened the door shortly after Don had rung the bell. Don was a little surprised that Michael had answered his own door; he would have bet money that Michael had a housekeeper or a butler! "Is something wrong? Have you found something?"

"Mr Burnett, may we come in?" Colby asked from beside Don. He looked as bad as Don felt which probably meant Don looked as bad if not worse.

"Yes of course," He replied, hesitating by the door a moment as they squeezed past him into the house's impressive reception room, with a sweeping grand staircase and walls covered in family portraits-paintings and photos. "Follow me," Michael told them before leading them through a massive dining room to a lounge at the back of the house.

Striking, impressive, remarkable didn't even begin to cover the grandeur of the living room. One wall acted as a conservatory and was built completely with tinted glass that over looked a large groomed garden. Another wall acted as a library with ceiling to floor bookcases, all old, musty and painstakingly preserved. There were four couches that faced off in a square shape next to a grand piano on a raised round section of floor. Colby's first thought was about where the TV was but Don's was why his fiancée was sitting on a settee near the rear of the room. Her shoes were off, feet curled under her with a tea cup in her hand. Files were scattered everywhere over the large coffee table and Don assumed that it was a case of Michael being too upset to face the office today. Either way Robin looked as startled to see Don as he was to see her.

"Don? Colby?" She asked in shock, her sensuous mouth forming a small o. "Has something happened with the case?"

"May we?" Don asked Michael, ignoring his fiancée as he gestured for Michael to take a seat as well. If it was possible Michael looked worse than he had the first time he had visited Don's office two days ago. He was dressed simply in a blue pressed shirt and tan slacks. His feet were bare of socks but stuffed inside expensive loafers that could have doubled for slippers. His hair was greasy and lay lank on top of his head. He was sporting a couple of days' worth of growth on his stubbled chin and his eyes were bloodshot and red from crying.

"What's this about Don?" Robin asked again steel to her voice.

"Mr Burnett," Don started, ignoring Robin once more. "Do you remember when you asked me to take this case and I warned you that my team may have to ask you and your family some difficult, trying and at times tedious questions to get to the truth?"

"Yes," Michael replied, his attention on Colby who hadn't joined them on the expensively overstuffed couch but instead wandered around the large room looking at pictures of Connie and Michael and then Connie as a baby with her mother.

"I'm afraid that time has come…Mr Burnett," Don spoke softly in an attempt to soften the blow. "The autopsy report showed signs of sexual abuse," He told them getting both Michael and Robin's attention back on him.

"What?" Michael replied breathless. "That piece of trash…that gutter scummer…that bastard..._touched my little girl?" _

"Mr Burnett," Don said strongly when Michael jumped up and started cursing under his breath. "_Mr BURNETT,"_ Don shouted to draw his attention back to the point at hand. "On closer examination of the body the coroner found _previous_ signs of abuse."

"What are you trying to say Don?" Robin was on her feet now trying to calm Michael down.

"Mr Burnett was you sexually abusing your daughter?" Don asked his voice like steel.

"Don't answer that Michael!" Robin shrieked in outrage.

"_Robin,"_ Both Michael and Don said in unison.

"No Michael!" She warned. "My client has nothing to say at this time so whatever little fishing exhibition you were on…it's _over_!"

"Mr Burnett, Michael, we'd like to search your daughter's room for evidence. We can get a warrant if it's necessary but I don't need to tell you how not cooperating would look should we find anything." Don stood up and moved over to the fuming and grieving father next to Don's fuming and grieving fiancée. "If it wasn't you then someone you knew, hell someone _she _knew and _trusted_ was doing this to her. Don't you want me to find that person? Because I'm telling you now, and I shouldn't be, it was the abuse happening _here_ _in this house_ that attracted your daughter to her murderer. I told you two days ago, I need to know everything and you told me you had nothing to hide. So how's this going to go? Do I need a warrant?"

"Michael you _don't_ have to do this!" Robin told her 'client' as she gave her husband the evils; there was disgust and disappointment in her eyes. There was also an accusation there. He'd known and he hadn't told her, Don was going to pay for that later. Unfortunately she still had yet to learn that he couldn't let their relationship interfere with his job, especially now that he is the SAIC. Too many people would expect such a rookie move. It was just the kind of mistake that would get him ousted. Don was sure Robin would calm down and come to her senses…eventually. After all how long could she really stay mad?

"No Robin…he's right. I have nothing to hide, which means someone I trusted hurt Connie and brought her to this psychopath's attention. They might as well have killed her themselves as far as I'm concerned." Turning to Don he said, "You don't need a warrant."

"Thank you," Don nodded at Michael as he pulled his phone out of his suit jacket pocket and called the CSI supervisor Gary Knolls before calling in the rest of the team.

Whilst Knolls processed the inside of the house the rest of them needed to be canvasing the area, who knew they could get lucky and find someone who had seen the murderer hanging around. Alternatively Ian could pick up some sort of trail… The case was all 'what ifs' and a heck of a lot of 'hopefullys' at the moment and all Don could hear was his father saying: "_You aren't born with luck son, you've gotta make your own."_ His brother on the other hand would roll his eyes and say there's no such thing as luck, only chance and possibility. Either way it was progress of a kind and Don was happy to take that much for now.

*Break*

"So you're saying there is no way that our killer ever entered the premises?" Elliott asked CSI Wilkes.

"What so there's nothing? Zip? Nadda?" Brian reiterated confused.

"Look boys," CSI Samantha Wilkes held her hands up in apology. "I've searched all exits and entrances to the house and there's nothing. It's eerily clean."

"There has to be _something_!" Elliott fumed frustrated. "He's not some ghost that can float through walls. He knew everything that was happening in this home, he has to have been in the house. Have you searched the inside of the windows and doors?"

"This may come as a shock to you detective Hayes but this isn't my first crime scene!" Samantha retorted angrily, flicking her long golden hair over her right shoulder. "Jason is sweeping the interior entrances and exits as we speak."

"Then let's go see if he has anything," Brian suggested as a peace offering between the two heated officers.

"Before you do, you might want to check this out," Ian told the surprised group.

"Shit Ian," Brian cursed, clutching at his chest dramatically. "Do you always have to appear like that?"

"Sorry," Ian shrugged, not in the least apologetic. "I can go if you want?"

"Don't be silly," Elliott told his mysterious friend gruffly. "How about you earn your keep and fill us in instead."

"Boot prints," Ian pointed at his feet, a small quirk of a smile showing that he was pleased with himself. There was a cat like smugness there that Elliott found amusing. "They are a work man's boot size eleven."

"Just like at the burial site!" Brian shouted ecstatically as he came to squat beside Ian.

"Be careful where you tread!" Samantha called out as the pair began to talk animatedly together. "That's evidence, stand back!"

"This may come as a surprise to you CSI Wilkes but this isn't my first hunt, I know how to avoid destroying evidence," Ian replied sternly, winking at Elliott.

"How long were you there?" He asked amazed.

"Technically I was here first," Ian smiled relaxed as Samantha fussed around them to take a cast of the prints. Elliott noticed that she swept a little too close to Ian, her hand brushing his arm or leg as she looked at him sultrily under her lashes.

"So the prints?" Brian asked to draw Ian's attention away from Elliott and back on himself. Elliott couldn't help but laugh at Brian's man crush or at the fact that Ian seemed oblivious to Samantha's heated looks.

"Right," Ian shook his head self-deprecatingly. "See how they are heavy in the toes like he was squatting? He staked the little girl from out here. Climbing this tree to see inside her room. Everything he did here was about surveillance. He never entered the house."

"How can you make that assessment? What evidence do you have?" Samantha asked interestedly as she waited for the cast to set.

"The marks in the tree, the fact that it's level with her room…oh and I found these," Ian smiled as he held up a pair of cheap binoculars. "I found two others hidden somewhere _outside_ the property of the previous two victims."

"When did you do this?" Elliott asked shocked as CSI Wilkes snatched the evidence bag from Ian.

"This morning. After finding the boot prints yesterday I started wondering if our other victim's homes showed any sign of our killer. That's then I found the first binoculars. They were hidden but I found similar disturbances in secluded areas near the house. Connie's home was certainly the closest he got to our victim's home but that was most likely because of the conveniences of the tree in the back yard."

"There's also what Will was saying yesterday about serial killers," Brian scratched his head in memory. "Distance to target matters. The more intense it is the attacker feels to a crime, the further he will travel to commit it."

"How does that relate here?" Elliott asked confused.

"Intensity is measured by the nature of the crime and injuries, the appearance of ritualistic behaviour and length of abduction. He had Connie for two weeks not one. He got the closest to her home and he took his time killing her. Savouring it. Brian's right this wasn't just a matter of convenience. It's his third crime…he's evolving, getting braver…bolder."

"So he's leaving the binoculars as a souvenir?" Elliott asked still confused.

"No…as a calling card. He's saying that he's watching us, that he can see all and justice will be his," Ian replied, his confidence a little shaken.

"Did you even photograph them before you bagged them?" Samantha asked angrily, her pupils dilating with lust as she took the evidence bag off of Ian. He really was an unbearably hot…impossible man!

"Always," He smiled charmingly at the angry five foot CSI who melted before him as he pulled out a small compact camera. Any previous signs of doubt gone and replaced once more with his sunny, relaxed and laid back smile. Elliott was beginning to think that it was a mask. There were many sides to agent Ian Edgerton and you couldn't help but wonder which would come out next. _Could Ian really be this blind?_ Elliott thought wondrously as he watched Ian drop the camera in her shaking hand before walking away, his free hand rising in goodbye.

"What does this mean for our investigation though?" Brian asked helplessly from behind a distracted Elliott who was busy watching as Samantha dropped at Ian's departure.

"It means that our killer was at every house, stalking his prey, learning about the family, their lives every detail most likely religiously recording it in some sort of diary. He's either stupid or clever leaving the binoculars…I venture cleaver, you won't find prints," Elliott told Samantha, although her mind seemed to be elsewhere.

"I'll check them all the same thanks!" She huffed before grabbing her cast of the prints and Ian's new evidence before storming back into the house.

"So what? We have foot prints but no finger prints…but our man is daring enough to leave something at the scene, knowing that it can't be tied to him…" Brian reasoned out loud. "He truly is a ghost!"

"No," Elliott spat on the perfectly cut grass. "He's a man like you or I. I'll get Jackson to find out where the binoculars were sold. I'll tie them to him, you wait and see. Ghosts aren't seen my friend but maybe our man was…" A slight twitching at a neighbour's curtain set a plan in Elliott's mind so fast that he had crossed the street before he even realised what he was doing. Every neighbourhood had one old lady that always saw everything. Maybe this was there's…

*Break*

Giving the simmering pan a quick stir, Ian lifted the wooden spoon up out of the dish so that he could wipe some sauce off onto his slender finger for testing. _Definitely needs more chilli,_ he thought as his dining companion pulled two beers from the large fridge and offered one to him. "Cheers," He smiled as the first cool tingles of beer tickled his dry throat.

"It's my pleasure," Alan Eppes, Charlie and Don's father saluted Ian with his beer. "Do you know how nice it is to have someone cook for me for a change?"

Ian laughed; he loved spending time with Alan which was why he had taken him up on his offer of dinner without any real need for arm twisting. Alan had sounded almost surprised at how quickly Ian had accepted but truth was Ian had been feeling lost and a little lonely lately, that and he was more than willing to spend time with such an easy and interesting man as Alan Eppes. "Well you're going to love this," Ian gave the sauce another quick stir. "It's a little recipe I picked up in Peru a few years back."

"It certainly smells good," Alan made a show of sniffing the spicy air about his range stove. "More spice?" He asked as Ian lifted a second unmarked pot and tipped most of the contents into the pan.

"I like a bit of spice," Ian winked. "But no, just herbs. It's the secret ingredient, makes the whole dish!" Ian smiled again as he offered the wooden spoon to Alan to try.

"Mmm, wow. That's amazing!" Alan grinned as he took another pull from his beer bottle.

"Good," Ian toasted with his own bottle. "How about we go sit in the living room?" He suggested. "The sauce has to simmer for twenty minutes now."

"Ok," Alan gestured at Ian to lead the way. It was only as they were sitting comfortably that Alan turned to look at Ian properly. There was something there, he had noticed it earlier but couldn't quite put his finger on it. All he knew was that Ian wasn't as relaxed as he was pretending to be. In fact the way he was sat, back straight, legs apart, hand on his gun…his eyes roaming the room… He had even picked the best chair for giving him a good view of the room and exits. "Are you ok?" Alan asked concerned.

"Perfect…why?" Ian shrugged nonchalantly. "Has Don said something?"

"No, is there something for him to tell me though?" Alan replied, setting his beer down on a round coaster on the small wooden coffee table between them.

"Not really…well I guess you'll find out sooner or later anyway…I'm quitting the FBI. After the case." Ian looked down and away, Alan looked as shocked as Don had last night.

"But why?" Alan stumbled to understand.

"Because…I don't know. It's hard to explain." Ian mumbled. Talking to Alan felt like talking to his adoptive father Kevin Edgerton, who he had yet to tell. This was like a trial run.

"Is this about you're covert mission in Afghanistan?" Alan asked knowingly.

"No, yes…maybe…how'd you know about Afghanistan?" Ian countered confused.

"Charlie might have mentioned something three months ago…" It was Alan's turn to shrug noncommittally.

"It wasn't his place!" Ian fumed, getting up to pace to the fireplace and back.

"He was worried about you," Alan whispered quietly.

"Well I'm fine. I can take care of myself." Ian retorted unreasonably.

"Maybe you can Ian but that doesn't stop us caring," Alan took a small sip from his beer. "It wasn't what was worrying you though, was it?" Alan looked at Ian knowingly.

"Don offered me his old job," Ian sighed apologetically as he slumped back into the chair.

"That's great!" Alan smiled excitedly.

"I have to turn it down," Ian rested his elbows on his knees and put his face in his hands.

"Why? They'd be lucky to have you wouldn't they?" Alan asked confused.

"Not everyone would feel that away," Ian groaned from inside his hands. He really wanted the job. A few nights in his new apartment and he was already going crazy. Yet he knew that there was no place for him in his old world anymore.

"They'll get used to it," Alan replied warmly. "They'll have to because Ian, you shouldn't sacrifice what you want because 'others might not like it'. Don trusts and wants you and despite what you think I think you're more welcome and wanted than you realise."

"Maybe you're right…" Ian sighed confused. Alan made sense and yet if he knew that it was…well if he knew who…then he might feel differently was all.

"Trust me, take the job," Alan told him as he shook his empty bottle. "Refill?"

"Please," Ian leaned back as Alan popped into the large kitchen.

Pulling his mobile phone from his jeans pocket, Ian dialled Don's number as he stepped outside the front door to get some privacy. When the phone clicked to answerphone, he left a message for Don to get back to him. He'd changed his mind but he didn't say as much in his message. They could discuss that together later.

"Ian?" A small voice that was instantly recognisable asked from behind.

"Charlie?" Ian asked in reply, swivelling round to see a knackered and weary looking Charlie sitting on the porch swing that Alan had installed not long after Charlie had left for England.

"What are you doing here?" Charlie asked confused.

"I was going to say the same thing to you," Ian whispered uncertainly, his heart racing and fingers flexing in anticipation.

"I…well…it's a long story," Charlie smiled hesitantly. "What about you? I thought you were in Afghanistan!"

"We completed the mission early," Ian shoved his twitching hands roughly into his jeans deep pockets, the porch light behind his head casting his face in shadows, hiding his conflicted expression.

"I'm glad you're ok," Charlie said quietly, His eyes searching Ian's, for what? Ian didn't know. Or he did and he just didn't want to admit it to himself.

"_Charlie_," His voice groaned thick with emotion.

"I know…ok, I _know…_but…" Charlie stood up, crossing the short distance till they were inches apart.

"I'm here on a case." Ian said a little breathlessly, his chest tightening with anticipation. "No other reason, just a case and then I'm gone..." Ian bit his lip in uncertainty. Charlie was standing so close he could feel the heat of him on his exposed flesh making him shiver. "What about you? Does Alan know you're here? Where's _Amita_?" Ian asked, needing to say anything to get Charlie to back off because Ian wasn't sure he had the will power to do it himself.

"No, I…well," Charlie stammered to think up a suitable excuse; Ian's presence was unexpected and was doing confusing things to his head and body. He couldn't think! He had made the first move, but now he just felt well…silly. "_Ian_…"

"It doesn't matter anyway," Ian told him disappointedly, finally stepping away when Charlie reached out to touch him. He couldn't stand the thought that Charlie was going to lie to him. "It's none of my business anyway. In fact…I should just go. Tell your father that I got called away on the case…bye." Without so much as a look back, Ian left Charlie there, alone and confused. There was so much he had wanted to do and say and yet he was just too angry to say it. So he had run away. Just like he had run away to Afghanistan when Charlie had proposed to Amita in the first place and look at how that had turned out…

Sighing with frustration and desire, Ian kept walking. There was no way he was getting sucked back in. No way. Not this time. He would tell Don no. He had been a fool to think he could handle it. Two minutes in Charlie's company and Ian had nearly lost control. He hated losing control. His job, hell, his whole life was based on how well he worked under pressure. He'd never failed a mission yet _because_ he was so good at keeping his emotions out of it. If that meant that sometimes he was a cold heartless bastard...then so be it. Life would be far easier and much _safer _for everyone if he just left at the end of the case, however much he would miss everyone _including_ Charlie.

No…catch the killer, retire on a high, say goodbye and move on. That had been his goal when he had first come to LA from Afghanistan. He had almost let these people convince him to stay, but Ian was a wonderer…life here…he hated complicated and as much as he wanted to stay, he knew he had to leave whilst he still had his pride and his principles left. He wasn't _that_ guy and he wouldn't become him…not even for Charlie. He respected himself and these people too much for that.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Tired was not the right word to describe how Charlie felt; exhausted was perhaps a more fitting word as he felt both physically and emotionally spent. He was just so angry and frustrated but more than that…under the surface, deep in his gut guilt was festering. Charlie wasn't one to bear emotional pain well. It was like his mind shut down and he couldn't think, couldn't breathe. It was emotional drowning and Charlie certainly felt that way now.

Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, the jet lag...but Charlie was beginning to regret jumping on a plane and flying thousands of miles out of spite. There was so much that he and Amita had left unsaid, mainly because Charlie didn't want to say anything he'd regret, but coming home had been just that…spiteful. He had just been so mad and had wanted to put as much distance between the two of them as he could and what better than the Atlantic?

Because at the end of the day when all was said and done; Amita wasn't innocent in this. She had definitely played her part in causing this mess, but then so had Charlie, he wasn't completely blameless in all of this either. He had no right playing the self-righteous put upon husband, but then again he shouldn't shoulder all of the blame alone. She had hurt him…betrayed him, tore out his heart and stomped on it with her three inch high stilettos…but then…he had hurt her first.

He had pulled away first…and what now? He comes home after hours of pain and anguish, delayed flights and bad airport food and who is on his doorstep? Ian. Maybe it was too many scotches on the plane or cabin fever but Charlie had gone to him, stood inches from his pulsating body that was radiating such heat and wanted him and for a moment, Charlie was sure that Ian had wanted him too. Then the moment passed, Ian's face closed off. God just the look in Ian's eye when he stepped away from Charlie's touch twisted his gut with disappointment and confusion.

Here he was, hours after what was looking to be the end of his marriage and he was what? Flirting with an emotionally unavailable _man!_ How could he even be thinking about any of this when his marriage lay in ruins? Sure he hated Amita _now_, but she was his _wife_…God he was just so confused! He _loved_ Amita, or at least he had…Ian was just a distraction…wasn't he? That was all he had ever been right? Or at least that was all Charlie had allowed him to be…

Turning over in his bed, Charlie lay motionless, listening to the wind as it battered the shutters on his window. He had seen this kind of weather before, it meant a storm was coming and Charlie couldn't help but feel that it was appropriate considering his own state of inner turmoil and confusion.

Sighing self-pityingly, Charlie froze at the sound of keys rattling, a door slamming and the muffled sounds of his father greeting his brother. Charlie groaned audibly and internally as he raked his fingers through his short curls. He didn't have the strength or the stamina to face a Don Eppes interrogation. He was already fortunate that their father, Alan, hadn't pushed the issue last night when his dinner partner had suddenly changed to his youngest son. All through some delicious Peruvian dish prepared by Ian, Alan had given him this look of concern that said: _'I'm not judging you, but Charlie where's your wife?' _

Charlie hated that look. It was the look that their father had given them growing up when he or Don had done something bad. It amounted to: _'I know you did it so why not own up eh?'_ The longest Charlie had ever gone before caving to that look was a week. The silly thing was that Charlie wanted to tell his father everything. He just didn't understand what had happened himself…which he knew sounded like a cop out and he knew was mostly denial talking, but he genuinely felt emotionally adrift. He just needed to figure out a way to explain a feeling that he'd had but ignored for such a long time…

Thinking back on the days before the wedding, Charlie couldn't help but wonder if he had known that his marriage was doomed to failure all along. Perhaps he had. There was definitely a moment three months ago that Charlie had almost called the wedding off…but this…he couldn't have predicted any of this. Had he, he might have gone through with stopping the wedding. Instead he had stood before his friends and family and declared his undying love to the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Those other doubts hadn't mattered, or at least he told himself out of hurt and anger that they hadn't. Now, he wasn't so sure. Had he made a huge mistake in ignoring those feelings?

At the sudden movements on the stairs, Charlie stopped wallowing and sprang into action. Getting up, he moved over to a nearby chair that he used to dump clothes on and pulled on a black T-Shirt with the slogan: _'__There are 10 types of people in the world, those who know binary and those who don't',_ on the front. It was a gift from Amita a couple years back…it was one of his favorite tops… Refusing to go there right now, Charlie moved over to the door and opened it a crack to hear what went on below.

"…He's not ready," Charlie heard Alan tell his eldest son.

"What? He comes home without warning, _without his wife_ and your seriously not going to ask why? _Seriously_? You're just going to stand there?" Don responded, half way between frustration and incomprehension. "Well I'm not waiting. When was the last time you heard from Charlie? Spoke to him properly? No, I'm going up there and I'm going to get to the bottom of this!" Hearing Don's steady footsteps moving further up the stairs, Charlie shank back from the door scorched. It was too soon, he wasn't ready!

"No Don!" Alan told his errant son forebodingly. "He will come to us when he is _ready_. Do not push the situation!"

Heart in his throat, breathing shallow, Charlie listened as his brother's footsteps drew ever nearer. His mind went blank and his heart continued to drum in his chest till a recognizable tune sounded from the end of the hall. It was Rush's song _"Working Man"_ and Don's mobile ring tone.

"Eppes," Don said after a quick scuffle to locate which pocket his phone was in. "How long ago?" Don asked the person on the other end. Creeping back to the door, Charlie watched his brother's frown deepen with distaste. "Ok I'm on my way. You know the drill Colby, secure the area and call in the rest of the team. See you in…" He checked his watch. "See you in twenty. Oh and Col? You sure about this…it's our guy?" Don didn't seem to like the answer as he hung up and punched the wall that was fortunately made of stronger stuff than Don's fist could punch through. Unfortunately for Don's fist the wall was made of stronger stuff than his fist could punch through and it hurt like a son of a bitch! Shaking his sore fist, Don turned around and went back downstairs.

Whatever that was about Charlie didn't care. It had bought him time with Don and Charlie was grateful for that. Moving over to Amita's chest of draws, Charlie picked up his own phone and checked it for any messages but there were none. Either Amita was giving him space or she just didn't care… Unsure what to do next, Charlie decided to go back to bed. The sooner he got a good night's sleep the sooner he could think clearly again and face this mess properly, rationally. He just didn't know if that would be possible with the storm brewing and the wind howling outside.

***Break***

What can any of us say when we get that call; the one that we all knew was coming and was never going to be good news? For Detective Elliott Hayes it was more a question of how to act. How do you stay strong, stay positive even when facing the _fourth_ family to be affected by a monster that quite frankly you didn't stop and are no closer to catching today than you were three months ago? He could tell you so much about the LA Child Snatcher too. None of which could identify their suspect but they were learning...always learning.

"Elliott," Don beckoned him over after pulling up outside the Blake family residence. It was a small house without any special or defining quality. Had Elliott not scrawled the house number on his hand before leaving the precinct then he might have gotten lost in a cul-de-sac of repetitiveness.

"Don," Elliott nodded grimly to his temporary boss as they walked up the small path that went to the front door. It was not an expensive neighbourhood, but then victim class or backgrounds had never played a part in this case. They had four children: one upper-class, one middle-class and two working-class. They all lived across town from each other, never interacting…a killer their only link. "Sorry I'm late, I got stuck in traffic. Stupid winds blowing trees down left right and centre! It had the highway completely blocked."

"You're here that's the main thing and in one piece too!" Don smiled sadly. "Look, ideally I'd rather be at home too but…unfortunately this case just got worse than the weather…"

"So it's really him?" Elliott asked idiotically, of course it was him. They wouldn't be here if it wasn't. A small part of him had just hoped that…well…never mind.

"I want you to take point," Don hesitated before ringing the bell, ignoring Elliott's previous statement. "You've got more experience with notifying families on this case. Uniforms have been sitting with the family and the nanny, whilst the others are at the park canvasing the area and speaking to witnesses. For the moment we are treating it like any other kidnapping. We'll set up the equipment in case a ransom call comes but from what Brian says…the family have already guessed that this isn't a usual kidnapping. It's likely they will ask you if it's the Child Snatcher."

"Should I tell them if they ask?" Elliott asked, he'd told the others but maybe Don would have done it differently. He hated the thought that Don might ask him to lie; to give the family false hope…Don was an unknown entity to Elliott. He seemed like and alright bloke but Elliott had only known the guy three days…

"That's your call. Elliott…look, I'm putting you on point in there because you have a unique ability to read people. I'm going to need that as far as the nanny goes but more importantly, you also have this way of putting people at ease. You're a good detective…I know you'll make the right choice." Don smiled miserably as he knocked on the door and waited in silence for an officer to open the door. "SAIC Don Eppes and Detective Elliott Hayes," He told the tall stocky officer that answered the door.

"They're in the living room," The man replied, taking his hat off to scratch his crew cut hair style and square shaped head.

"Thank you," Elliott nodded at the man, whom he had seen on occasion at crime scenes and at the precinct. Once inside the house, Elliott noticed that it was as subtle and unrefined in design as the outside and furnished just as sparingly.

"Mr and Mrs Blake, I'm SAIC Don Eppes and this is detective Elliott Hayes," Don told the awkwardly sat couple. Elliott had seen it before, in the face of such grief it's almost as if you forget how to do the simple things, like sit.

"SAIC? What does that stand for?" The man asked gruffly. He was a thickly built man with a prominent gut. He was dressed in a neatly pressed striped shirt and bad tie that screamed car sales man rather than postal worker. Elliott wondered if he'd come straight from work as he watched the man watch Don whilst idly scratching at his thick moustache.

"It means that I'm a special agent in charge at the FBI. I'm also the one in charge of your daughter's case," Don replied easily and respectfully.

"FBI?" The man asked bewildered. "Is that standard procedure?"

"In these circumstances…yes." Don replied as the man nodded sombrely.

"Would you like some tea?" The scarecrow of a woman asked Don and Elliott as they settled down on the chairs that the uniformed officers had been using before their arrival. She was a skinny woman, with thin hollow cheeks and pale skin. Her hair was twisted up on top of her head in an old style that meant nothing to Elliott who wasn't up to date on the latest fashions let alone the old ones. She wore a cheap peach floral dress with a lace hem. She apparently worked as a receptionist and Elliott could see why; she was very neat and precise in every detail of her life.

"That would be lovely," Elliott told her, smiling what Brian called his 'grief face' because it was both sad and respectful and Elliott only pulled it out whilst notifying families, the hardest and worst part of his job. "Sir," Elliott said, turning to her husband. "At what point did you realise that your daughter was missing?"

"When Jodie came home and told my wife that she had lost our daughter like she would if she had lost her mobile phone," Mr Blake replied angrily causing the young girl in the corner to flinch. She couldn't have been much older than twenty one; twenty two and Elliott couldn't help but feel sorry for her, until he remembered that the abuse had always started with the nannies in this case. She had long brown hair that was tied back in a tight pony tail and wore paint speckled jeans that had a little green hand prints on the knee. It was also the first sign that Elliott had seen in the house to suggest that there was a child even living there.

"And how long after did you notify the police?" Elliott asked, ignoring the nanny and focusing on the red faced man across from him.

"An hour maybe two," The man sighed as his wife walked stiffly back into the room. "My wife rang me at work, I came straight home…yes about two hours." Elliott cursed internally. Statistics showed that the first few hours after a child is abducted are the most critical to the outcome of the case. Studies show that three quarters of the children who are kidnapped and later found murdered were killed within the first three hours after being taken. The Blake's had waited two hours to call the police, it had been a further two hours before Don and the team were notified and another half an hour before Elliott could work his way through the traffic to get there. Statistics said that they were already too late. Perversely Elliott was counting on, nay praying that their serial killer was sticking to form and waiting before killing the little girl. That gave them two weeks to find her or the girl was dead.

"Why does it matter?" Mrs Blake asked confused, cutting into Elliott's reverie as she laid the tea down on the cheap coffee table before them; forgetting, however, to actually serve it.

"We're just trying to establish a timeline is all," Don smiled reassuringly as he reached forward and began to serve the tea.

"What did you do in that time?" Elliott asked the couple as he pulled his notebook from his jacket pocket and began writing.

"Well…Jodie and I went to the park and searched the surrounding streets whilst my wife phoned up our friends in case she had wondered there… Then when Jodie found Lily's shoe…that's when we came home and called the police," It was only once mentioned that Elliott noticed the small lime green sandal sandwiched between the man's two large meaty fists.

"I'm afraid, we're going to need it as evidence," Don told the worried couple. "We'll also need a recent photo, a description of what she was wearing today and an item for our scent hounds."

"I'll get a picture," Mrs Blake told them, getting up from the fake leather couch to look at the pictures on the mantel. "This one," She told them, her back to the room. "This one shows her smile and big blue eyes…yes this one will do." Letting the framed photo fall from her grip into Elliott's waiting hands, Mrs Blake made her excuses and left the atmospherically stuffy room.

"Sir," Elliott turned his attention back to Mr Blake who was staring off into the distance, lost in thought. "Sir, when you've taken Lily to the park before, have you ever noticed anyone hanging around, maybe showing particular attention to Lily or watching her?"

"No," He replied gruffly.

"No one at all?" Elliott pushed, they needed a lead…any lead would do at this point.

"No…what I mean is that I don't take her to the park. Play times are with the nanny. I work hard all day to put food on this table. Do you really think I have time to waste down the park? No, truth be told, Lily would never have been there if it hadn't been for Jodie's insistence that Lily needed fresh air and regular exercise. I wanted Lily to focus more on her studies…I never should have caved!" A mix of anger and astonishment came over Elliott all at once at the hard man's response; Don's kind hand on his arm was the only thing stopping him from saying as much.

"What about your wife?" Elliott changed tactic once he had regained his composure.

"No, I was the only one," Jodie whispered, causing both Elliott and Don to strain their ears to hear her.

"Will this do?" Mrs Blake asked coming back into the room and moving over to Elliott holding a large stuffed white rabbit. "…For the scent hounds? She never sleeps without her _Rodger_ _Rabbit_…" Stifling a sob, Mrs Blake thrust the rabbit into Elliott's lap, before rushing from the room again.

"We need to go to the crime scene now, give this to the scent dogs," Elliott told the grieving father as he and Don stood in unison. "Jodie, we're going to need you to come with us to show us where you found the shoe and then answer a few more questions down the station. We'll also need you to write a formal statement whilst you're there."

"Ok," She nodded fiercely, just glad to be getting away from the father's wrath, and rushed after Don as he left the room.

"Detective," Mr Blake stopped Elliott in his own hasty retreat. "Does he have my daughter?"

"Who Mr Blake?"

"The LA Child Snatcher, the one they go on about in the news…I know that there won't be a ransom…we aren't rich enough for anyone to want anything… We are just a simple family, low on the pecking order. I don't have enemies…so _who_ would take my daughter? What I'm trying to ask is…is my daughter dead?" Mr Blake asked sadly hardly capable of meeting Elliott's cold gaze.

"Sir, we are doing all we can and we aren't ruling anything out," Elliott told him as Mr Blake nodded sombrely in response. "Mr Blake, I can't make any promises, but I'll make you this one, we are going to throw_ everything_ the LAPD and FBI has to offer at whoever has your daughter. I'll also keep you informed as we go." Without waiting for a response, Elliott left the small house; Don was waiting for him there.

"Did he ask?" Don asked, collar up and hands shoved deeply in his pocket as the wind battered his black hair.

"Yes. I told him we aren't ruling anything out," Elliott said as a distant rumble of thunder warned of the rain to come. Elliott just hoped that Colby and the others were almost finished at the crime scene as any rain could wash away what little evidence remained.

"Good, it's not a denial but it's not confirmation either, I knew you could handle it." Pulling out his keys, Don moved off down the small path leaving Elliott shaking his head in confusion. Why did this man's praise affect him so?

Smiling to himself, ridiculously pleased with himself, Elliott moved down the path to his own car. They had a picture and the rabbit. It wasn't much but it was a start. Turning the key in the ignition, Elliott followed Don's Chevy Suburban to the crime scene feeling oddly optimistic. They were going to catch a lead today. He could feel it.

***Break***

As the sun disappeared from view and thick black storm clouds drifted overhead, Elliott couldn't help but surmise that it was quite possibly the worst day to go to the park. Yet there were people everywhere, from nannies with screaming toddlers, young kids with footballs and students playing hacky sack. Wherever Elliott looked there was a couple having a romantic picnic or a dog chasing a stick, all oblivious to the approaching weather and the drama that was unfolding around them. In all fairness to them, it was a large park and Colby had only cordoned off a small area near the woods at the back where Ian and Will were conducting separate interviews for the witnesses-mostly all nannies with the occasional jogger or dog walker thrown in for variety.

Matching Don's easy stride, Elliott and Jodie made their way over from the small parking lot at the front of the park to the crime scene at the back. Brian was the first to notice their arrival and notify the others.

"Hey E," He said as Elliot drew closer, eyeing Jodie with approval in his baby blue eyes. He was wearing a blue-grey Lacoste suit with a sky blue silk handkerchief in the breast pocket, skinny blue tie and a white pressed shirt. Today he was also wearing a debonair hat to complete the look and it was really working for him, judging by Jodie's sudden change in stride to include the slightest sway of her bony hips. Elliott couldn't help but feel that she might have pulled it off better had she got a bit more meat on her bones.

"Hey," he said in response, not bothering to introduce the two as he was too busy watching Don who had shuffled over to Ian and had taken him to one side. Whatever he was saying, Ian wasn't taking it well at all. Intrigued, Elliott watched as the man who was usually so confident bit his lip in uncertainty. His fists clenched at his side, his jaw rigid.

"Oh to be a fly on the wall of that conversation," Colby whispered for Elliott's ears only, voicing Elliott's own wish that he could join them. Whatever it was it looked important.

Silently the pair watched on as Ian shock his head, the uncertainty was gone, replaced with anger. There was a fire crackling in Ian's eyes that sent a chill down Elliott's spine and as those angry, fiery eyes snapped to his, Elliott had to stop himself from jumping back scorched. It had only been for a split second before they had slipped back to Don's but in that time Elliott had seen something, something new…guilt, shame. Something had changed and Elliott wasn't sure what but whatever it was it was big. He could tell that much. Snatching the rabbit from Don's hands Ian stormed off, his shoulders hunched and head bowed low. Wherever Ian was off to, Don didn't follow. Instead he walked off back to the parking lot, a look of concern clouding his normally bland features. It took a full five minutes before anyone moved again they were all so stunned by Ian's emotional outburst and Don's sudden exit.

"What was that all about?" Will asked confused as he came over to the small group. He had a notebook in one hand and a piece of paper in another.

"Wish I knew," Brian said as way of apology. "Get anything from the nannies?"

"Yes," Will smiled a small cat like smile of satisfaction. "Three nannies all remember seeing a gardener around this last week or two. Ian made a sketch for us," Will handed over the paper in his left hand, it was a detailed sketch of a white man in his late forty's. His features were not distinctive and it amazed Elliott that Ian and Will had gotten such detail from the witnesses. He was also impressed by Ian's artistic ability. He supposed it was useful on a hunt to be able to do your own sketches and not have to rely on others, it would only slow him down and Elliott couldn't see Ian as the patient type.

"Anything else?" Colby asked as he took his turn to look at the sketch, it could be their killer and Elliott recognized the familiar glow of hope in his posture and stance.

"Yes as a matter of fact," Will replied as he opened his notebook to a particular page. "We got a partial logo from the gardeners van. No name though so Brian and I are off to the offices to do some research."

"We also have to stop by a couple potential shops to get records of their sales for the outfits our victims were buried in," Brian nodded as he checked his watch for the time. "We'd better do that first as it's getting late."

"Ok," Will agreed, snapping his notebook shut. "I'll get these notes typed up for y'all tonight. "Ian did a canvas off the area by the way, but there was nothing. A few broken branches to suggest a general direction but no footprints or actual evidence to tie it to our Kil-"

"-Kidnapper," Elliott quickly overrode, pointing to Jodie with his eyes. "Jodie, does the man in this sketch look familiar to you?"

"Well…erm I…I dunno really. It's hard to tell from a sketch…" She mumbled defensively, her eyes cast low and to the left.

"How about you describe in detail what you and Lily did when you arrived at the park," Will asked Jodie, steel in his voice and his arms crossed.

"We played on the swings, in the sandpit and…and on the slide," She replied after a moment's hesitation.

"Interesting because one of the witnesses says she distinctly remembers you leaving Lily to play on the Jungle Jim whilst you made out with your boyfriend over by that tree. In fact a few different witnesses informed me that this was practically a daily occurrence."

"Ok maybe I did meet with Lyle but I always keep watch of Lily." She practically growled defensively

"Yes, so much of a watch that you can't even remember if you saw a man interacting with her? In fact, isn't it true that he could have been casing her for weeks and you wouldn't know any different, would you?" Will scowled, disgust in his tone and anger in his eyes.

"It isn't my fault! _She_ wandered off! I've told her a thousand times to stay where I can see her!" Jodie shouted, hands on her hips as her eyes searched for a friendly face amongst them.

"Kids wander," Elliott told her harshly, his ghost eyes icy with distain. "It's not just a case of where you can see her; it's a matter of never leaving her side to make out with your boyfriend and never taking your eyes off of her. Not even for a _second_."

"I…I…" She floundered for an answer.

"Why don't you come with me, show me where you last saw Lily," Colby said kindly when it looked like she might cry. As a parent, Elliott had no sympathy to give so he was grateful for Colby's ability to be impartial, they still needed information from her and she was more likely to be more cooperative if she didn't think the one questioning her was blaming her. "And we're going to need to get in contact with Lyle."

"Ok," She whispered somewhere between pissed and ashamed, as Colby led her away to the wooded section of the park at the back.

"We'd better go too," Brian reminded Will, his new best friend, as he headed back for the parking lot.

"See ya," Will told Elliott as he raced to catch up with Brian's long stride.

"Bye," Elliott replied, smiling at the bromance that was occurring between the young agent and his partner. If he wasn't carful Elliott would find himself partner less when this case was over…not that Brian would actually have the patience to train up to FBI. Besides, it would be significantly harder to stick it to his father, the chief of police, if he became an agent. Hell, that way he'd be practically respectable! Sighing to himself as the first droplets of rain hit his head and shoulders; Elliott took a deep breath before heading off to find Ian and the search crew, they had a while to go yet and the storm would only complicate things.

***Break***

Sitting in his black Chevy Suburban, Don let the engine run as the sound of rain drummed loudly on the roof. He had been sat there, arms crossed over his head as his forehead rested on the wheel's soft leather, for an hour at least. His chest felt tight and his heart was drumming. _What if they couldn't save this girl?_ Elliott and Brian had searched for months and three children had died. Don couldn't have that on his conscience, however much it was part of the job…Don couldn't live with this girl's blood on his hands which was ridiculous because he'd had cases like this before. It was just a sad truth that sometimes the more victims there are the more data there is and the higher chance that a perp will be caught. God now he sounded like Charlie! Which wasn't a bad thing, just surprising.

"Don?" Robin asked huskily as she tapped on the passenger's window before opening the door and slipping into the seat next to her tired husband. It was dark outside and the heavy rain had soaked her on her short journey to the car from the house. "You've been sat on the driveway for an hour," She said quietly, playing with the corners of the blanket that she had hastily thrown on over her now shivering shoulders before leaving the house.

"I know," He sighed, turning the engine off as he straightened in his chair, twisting his body to look at his fiancée properly. "I've been thinking…"

"About this case?" She guessed, biting her lip in shame. She had known that it was a tall ask of her fiancé and a small part of her was sorry that she had asked him to take the case on. She had known how busy he was already with sorting out the previous SAIC's files and now this… He looked pale, drawn and tired, stress lines marring his usually handsome face. His hair was a mess…

Reaching up and across the small space between them, Robin used her wet fingers to comb his hair back into some form of a style. He didn't say anything, just sat there letting her groom him. When she moved her hand to stroke his soft cheek he moved his head to the side and kissed her palm.

"I thought you weren't talking to me…" Don looked down and away, he really hadn't meant to hurt her feelings at Burnett's home the other day and the silence between them was killing him. It just seemed to be an occupational hazard for him these days. Ever since he had taken the SAIC position, there was always someone who wasn't happy with him in some way, big or small, but Robin…he had never wanted to hurt her.

"I thought it over and maybe I was a bit hasty," She admitted reluctantly, she hated admitting she was wrong; that she did so now was a big thing for her. "You were doing your job and unfortunately that sometimes means you have to ask some tough questions. It isn't pretty and it can't be helped but it's not your fault, besides I hate it when we fight."

"Me too," He smiled a small tight little smile.

"Has there been any word on the DNA found at the house?" Robin asked after some time had passed.

"No, it'll probably come through tomorrow as I put a rush on the sample."

"In that case, let's go inside," She told him as she reached across and grabbed his hand making him wince with pain. "What's this?" She asked, pulling his hand into the light and up to her face. There was a dark purplish bruise on the back of his hand and between two of his knuckles.

"I punched a wall," He replied, not able to look at her.

"Don," She sighed, resting his hand gently on the hand break as she climbed across the small space to sit in his lap. "When are you going to learn, walls are not your enemy."

Smiling briefly Don let Robin kiss him, letting her heat sink into his cold bones, refuelling him and giving him strength. "Rob," He moaned as she began to undo the buttons on his shirt, letting her fingers tease his tight chest as she travelled downwards. "I really am sorry…about the other day, at Burnett's house. I really didn't mean to ambush you like that…I just…"

"Shh," She whispered on his lips, cutting off further talk. "It doesn't matter," She told him, leaning back so he could see her face properly. "What matters right now, is us," She smiled, letting the shawl slip down her bare shoulders and onto the floor. Reaching for her, Don grabbed the edges of her sleeveless top and pulled it over her head. Where it landed was anyone's guess.

"Are you sure you want to do this here?" He asked, looking around to make sure no neighbours were watching.

"It's dark, the bushes act as cover and you have tinted windows…I'm sure," She smiled, kissing him deeply in an attempt to help him forget.

"God I love you," He whispered softly as her mouth moved from his jaw to his Adams apple to his clavicle, her fingers raking down his solid chest, drifting lower and lower till they reached his belt.

"I love you too," she smiled beautifully as her long messy damp hair fell forwards to cover her.

"Good," He laughed, raking his fingers through her hair until he had a hold on it and brushed it back behind her shoulders. Rubbing his hands down her back he made a b-line straight for the clasp on her bra with his right hand as the left pulled her closer and further onto his erection, all other thoughts forgotten. Right now they were just two people with a mutual need. There was no crime, no criminals to catch or prosecute; just a man and a woman in love with a desperate need to comfort and protect the other.

***Meanwhile…***

Looking down at the soaked and slightly ripped piece of paper in his hands, Charlie frowned. He was sure that he was in the right neighbourhood, he just couldn't believe it. Holding the paper up to a nearby streetlamp Charlie triple checked the address again before approaching a small redbrick house with a white picket fence, porch swing, flagpole and 'Vote republican' sign in the front yard. In all the years that Charlie had known Ian, this was definitely not the house that he had envisioned Ian growing up in. Not that he really knew what he had envisioned…just not this. It was too soft, too effeminate compared to his hard, disciplined and military style background.

Ignoring his sudden onset of nerves, Charlie opened the little fence at the end of the pathway and made his way up to the protection of the porch. He was soaked to the bone and his shoes squeaked as he shifted uncomfortably before the large front door. He had never been so nervous in his life and still didn't quite understand why he was there. His father had told him about Ian's decision to quit the FBI and get the hell out of LA but he had also said that he thought that he had talked Ian around and into staying. Somehow the news had compelled Charlie here and now…too wet, too tired and a little lost, Charlie knew he couldn't just turn around and walk away if he tried.

Reaching out, Charlie knocked on the netted screen in front of him. Waiting for Ian to answer the door was quite possibly one of the longest waits of his life. It actually felt longer than his wait in the airport and his flight combined.

"Professor?" Ian asked surprised as he pulled back the door to reveal a soaked Charlie doing his best impression of a drenched rat.

"Ian," Charlie replied as he took in the sight of Ian half naked, in khaki pants that were riding low on his thin hips with a white fluffy towel wrapped around his neck, framed by the soft glow of the hallway's light.

Without meaning to, Charlie couldn't stop his eyes from traveling down Ian's stubbled jaw and neck to his lightly hairy chest that was incredibly ripped and looked like an epic tale of old battle wounds. On his right arm was a Special Forces tattoo of a skull in a beret over crossed rifles with the slogan: 'Mess with the best, die like the rest' on either side. He was also wearing his metal dog tags and there was a wound below Ian's left clavicle that looked fresh and painful.

"You're hurt!" He couldn't help but exclaim at the sight of it, breaking the silence that had lapsed between them.

"It's nothing," Ian shrugged as his own eyes roamed Charlie's own body and bedraggled appearance.

"What happened?" Charlie asked, planting his feet where they were and curling his shaking hands into fists to stop himself from examining the area.

"I got shot in Afghanistan, but Charlie really…I'm ok," Ian's voice softened on Charlie's name as he opened the screen door and offered Charlie his towel.

"Thanks," He smiled as he stepped inside, careful to wipe his feet on the sunny welcome matt.

"Hey, Ian!" A friendly voice called from down the hall, gradually getting closer as it spoke. "Thanks for the beer but I'd better be heading home, that rain sounds like it's gearing up for a full blown storm…oh…hello…" A tall stocky man with peppery brown hair and grey chilling eyes appeared from a room down the far end of the corridor.

Charlie would have said that the man was in his late thirties early forties with a warm friendly face. He was wearing worn brown loafers, a brown polyester suit and a white cotton shirt with a red tie hanging loosely from his neck and his detective's badge fastened safely to his belt. In Charlie's opinion the man looked like a nineteen twenties private eye. The only thing that he was missing was a hat to finish the ensemble.

"Elliott," Ian addressed the stranger. "This is Professor Charles Eppes, Don's little brother, and Charlie this is Detective Elliott Hayes of the LAPD. El, you don't have to go if you don't want to..."

"That's ok," Detective Hayes smiled at Charlie. "Lucas hates storms. I'd hate to leave him and Karen alone if I can help it." Pulling out his car keys, Elliott gave Charlie and Ian's hands a quick shake before opening the door and legging it to a red Chevy Impala a couple of houses down the road.

"Who was that?" Charlie asked Ian as he closed the door behind the detective's retreating frame.

"What are you doing here Charlie?" Ian ignored Charlie's own question as he crossed his arms, his muscles rippling from the effort.

"Because you ran away last night…," Charlie replied, unwilling to back down. "More importantly though because we _need_ to talk." He said as if it was completely obvious.

"No Charlie, we really don't," Dropping his arms, Ian turned his back on Charlie and headed straight for the kitchen and another beer.

"Wait!" Charlie shouted, stopping Ian in his second hasty retreat in two days. "Are you leaving?"

Ian followed Charlie's pointed finger to a large carryon case by the door. "Yes," He shrugged, folding his arms defensively once more.

"But dad said that Don offered you his old job…why would you leave?" Charlie asked, his brain was freaking out and his breathing was shallow.

"You know why," Ian's voice was rough, accusing.

"Hey, you don't get to use Amita as an excuse." Charlie warned, braver than he felt. "_You_ left remember? You went to fucking _Afghanistan_ for fucks sake!"

"Yeah, that's right. I _went_ to Afghanistan on an _assignment_ from the _CIA_. What you seem to be conveniently forgetting is that _I didn't have a choice_. Besides you got _married_ Charlie! And then you went to _England!_" Ian spat back, his fists going white as he barely controlled his temper.

"I know," Charlie replied quietly. "But that's no reason for you to quit the FBI all together and give up this opportunity. I know you Ian, without a bad guy to chase…you'd go nuts with boredom."

"Maybe…but anything would be better than well whatever _this_ is," Ian shoved his fists into his pockets and leaned against the wall deflated.

"Ian…"

"What _happened_ Charlie? Huh? Where's Amita?" Ian asked the question on everyone's mind.

"She…she cheated on me Ian…" Charlie whispered head down, eyes cast to the floor.

"What?"

"After the honeymoon…I got stuck into a project and a class assignment, Amita was the same, work, work, work. No time for each other… I dunno, maybe I pulled away first…it's all such a blur. Either way she ended up having sex with another computer professor at the university and I ended up at Gatwick looking for the first flight back here. I pledged my fidelity to her and I would have kept it too! Unlike _her,_" Charlie sighed disappointedly.

"Amita deserves more than your fidelity," Ian told him sadly and Charlie knew that he was right. There had been love there as well though…he just wasn't sure whether that love was still the same love anymore…the whole affair was just so…so complicated.

"I know…" Charlie sighed angrily. "I didn't enter into this lightly! I just…I didn't expect you to be here…" Charlie drifted off, his eyes searching Ian's.

"Does that make a difference?" Ian asked quietly…hopefully.

"I…I don't know…" Charlie looked away confused.

"Charlie…"

"You were right…I shouldn't have come." Straightening up, Charlie moved over to the door, trying to ignore the suitcase that waited there.

"Charlie…"

"Yes?" He replied arms stretched out, hands on the door, unable to turn around to face him.

"I'm only going to DC for a week. I have a trial to attend…well more of a debriefing. It was postponed so I could recover from the bullet to my shoulder. Now that I'm well again…well it means its back on. I don't have a choice but to go…but…" Moving over to Charlie's wet form; Ian gently turned Charlie around to face him. "I'm coming back…" He whispered; leaning one arm on the door over Charlie's right shoulder as he leaned in close, his body inches from Charlie's. "I haven't told Don anything. He's still waiting on my answer."

There was sadness there, beneath the heat of lust in his eyes. There was anger and regret when Ian talked about his time in Afghanistan, guilt and shame as well. Charlie really didn't know anything about Ian's time over there. All he knew was that Ian's previous tours had fucked him up in the head for a while after and he couldn't bear the thought of Ian hurting, physically or emotionally.

"Then stay…" Charlie whispered back, his Adam's apple quivering with fear and anticipation. He didn't know why he was so drawn to Ian, or why Ian was so drawn to him in return. All he knew was that the pair had managed to somehow maintain a completely platonic friendship over the last six years. _Was his marriage really over…? Should he just go for it?_ _He really wanted to…_

Ian's eyes were searching his, as if waiting for authorization before acting. Reaching out, Charlie rested his shaking palms on Ian's bare chest. Despite his calm exterior, Charlie could feel Ian's racing heartbeat beneath his fingertips. Breathing shallow, Charlie smiled as Ian's right hand reached out and cupped his face, his thumb idly stroking Charlie's left cheek before moving his fingers up into the curly tangled mess of Charlie's hair.

Rocking up on to his tip toes, Charlie let Ian's hand draw his head and mouth closer. Waiting, savouring the inevitable brush of Ian's lips on his after six years of hesitation and longing. Charlie had thought for a moment that he had closed his eyes in anticipation of the kiss when darkness suddenly descended and enveloped them both in its comforting embrace, when in actual fact the power had gone out.

"Damn," Ian cursed, his breath tickling Charlie's lips, before pulling back and stepping away from Charlie's disappointed and tingling body. The cold air that rushed into the sudden gap between them attacked his wet and shivering body from all angles and was almost, almost as good as a cold shower.

Moment well and truly over, Charlie heard a few clicks as Ian tried to flip the light switch on and off a few times. "It's an old house, sometimes the fuse goes out. You wait here; I'll go get it back on."

"Don't bother," Charlie told him as he opened the front door to demonstrate his point. "The whole blocks out. Storm must have blown a power cable down."

"Damn," Ian replied, cursing again as he joined Charlie at the door. The rain was pouring fiercely outside and Ian couldn't help but wonder if Elliott made it home ok. "I need to get ready and get to the airport. I really don't have time for this!"

"Go, get ready," Charlie told him sadly. "Then go. I'll stay here till the power comes back on and lock up behind me when I leave."

"But the weather…my flight's probably delayed anyway…" Ian replied regretfully.

"It's ok," Charlie smiled reassuringly, though Ian couldn't see it for the darkness. "You need to go and find out. Chances are it'll only be delayed by a couple of hours."

"Thanks," Ian squeezed Charlie's shoulder before heading deeper into the house. "You'll find night goggles on the stand by the door. Use them to help you find the candles and matches under the kitchen sink." He said over his shoulder as an afterthought.

"Sure thing…" Charlie replied disappointedly, his heart drumming and his breathing shallow. "Sure thing..."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Alan looked though the open doorway at his youngest son's empty bed and wondered how their lives had grown so complicated so quickly. First his eldest son takes on a career breaking case that is making the national news practically every other day and then his youngest son spontaneously comes home from England _alone_ and then disappears again without so much as word. No explanation given as to why he'd left, where he was or when he was coming back. Alan knew his children were old enough to live their own lives and that he should probably stay out of it but surely there was a point when a parent should step in?

Shaking his head, Alan sighed at the glowing digits on his son's digital alarm clock. It was seven thirty in the morning and judging by the look of Charlie's bed, which clearly hadn't been slept in, Charlie had been gone all night. Perhaps it was a jet lag thing, maybe his son just needed time to clear his head…either way it didn't stop Alan from worrying.

In fact it was quite the opposite. Lately it seemed that all he did _was_ worry about one or the other of his two sons. In Alan's eyes Don was pushing himself too hard to prove that he was worthy of a promotion he should have had years ago…and Alan was just worried that the pressure and workload that he was currently under would put a strain on his relationship with Robin. Don may act the tough FBI agent but Alan knew that he was really quite sensitive and took any failure at work to heart. Besides, Don and Robin were planning a wedding and a future together; the LA Child Snatcher was the last thing that he needed right now but would that stop Don? It never had before and as a parent the thought of his son going head to head with a child serial killer had Alan scared.

It was something that Alan had been wrestling with for the majority of his eldest son's adult life. Alan's greatest fear was the thought of an officer coming to his house and telling him that his son was dead, shot in the line of duty. He knew that his son is a great agent and would be an even better SAIC. There was no one in the world that he trusted more to keep them all safe and take down this child murdering son of a bitch. That didn't mean that he couldn't worry though…right?

As for Charlie and Amita, God knew what was going on there. All Alan knew for sure was that Charlie was refusing to say anything and Amita wouldn't return any of his calls, that didn't stop Alan trying though. The two were acting like children, well mostly Charlie was. He had never been good at dealing with emotional and personal problems, look at the way that Charlie had reacted when his mother had died, but that didn't mean that Alan condoned him running away from them either. He was married now, with real problems to sort out and being on different continents was never going to help.

Charlie's problem was that he only ever did things by extremes when faced with painful situations. He couldn't face his mother as she died of cancer so he locked himself away in their garage. He wants space from Amita he goes on a ten hour plane trip and leaves the continent. There was just no telling what Charlie would do next and it worried Alan that Charlie wasn't telling him anything. The last time Charlie had acted so uncharacteristically it was because Charlie knew that he was in the wrong and the guilt was eating away at him. Was that what was happening now? Was he leaving Alan in the dark because he was ashamed of himself, of what he had done? God Alan just wished he _knew_ already. If he knew Alan was certain he could help!

Giving up, at least until after breakfast, Alan shut his missing son's bedroom door and moved down the hallway to the stairs and kitchen. Once there he turned on the radio as he set about making tea and toast. He was starving. Worrying about his sons had always turned him into a stress eater. Thank God he loved food and was good at cooking it he supposed…

"…and in other news…" The news presenter on the radio's voice caught Alan's attention. "…Pasadena was without power last night due to a failure with one of the city's backup generators. Thankfully no other areas were affected. In related news, construction starts today at Caltech where a roof was set alight by lightening. Keep us updated with your post storm news via our website or follow us on Facebook and Twitter…"

"Dad, you up?" Charlie called from the hallway making Alan start. He was back. At last!

"Charlie?" He asked in reply as he turned the radio off, ignored the ping of his toast and went to find his errant and wayward son. Charlie looked terrible, his shirt and jeans were wrinkled beyond saving, his curly hair needed a comb and he was sporting two days' worth of stubble. There was however a sort of optimism in the way Charlie moved and stood…a kind of glow…

Irritated beyond belief, Alan put his hands on his hips and bellowed: "Where the _hell_ have you been? I've been worried sick!" Like any other concerned parent, of a child that had snuck out the night before and not told you where they were going would.

"I know, I know," Charlie held his hands out defensively. "I'm really sorry but I got stuck in traffic trying to get out of Pas…out of work this morning…" Charlie replied shiftily, dropping his car keys in the bowl he left by the door at Amita's insistence one night after losing his keys more times than she could bear.

Sometimes for fun he would tease her about it… Shutting the memory down before it had a proper chance to form; Charlie took his coat off and slung it on the end of the banister. He really didn't want to think about _her_ right now… Not today, not after what nearly happened last night. He was confused but then being around Ian had that effect on him. It had felt so…so right, like everything had just fallen into place and yet he felt guilty too. He was a married man. Better than that, he was a married man to the woman he loved and had loved for years. He was lucky to have her…but she had cheated. She had betrayed him after only three months of marriage and him? He had almost cheated. Hell, he had cheated. It was an emotional cheat not a physical one but it was still a lie to his wife and to himself. Regardless, he had stayed faithful unlike Amita. He just felt so…so angry. He was lost, he was in denial but mostly…mostly he was conflicted. How do they come back from that? Did he want to?

"Work? That's where you were…all night…?" Alan asked skeptically. Something had changed. Alan could see it in the sudden droop in his son's shoulders, the frown on his brow and the storm of conflicted emotions in his soft brown eyes. It looked like the weight of the world had just landed on his fragile shoulders and Alan longed to help shoulder, well whatever it was that Charlie was holding back.

"I got caught out by the storm," Charlie shrugged evasively, unable to meet his father's suspicious eyes, he felt guilty enough as it was. He didn't need his father telling him that he was behaving inappropriately. He knew that he had or was… He knew that he should have sorted things out with Amita in England and not just bailed like he did. Regardless he hadn't sorted it and now…now he was just trying to cope with the ramifications of that decision as best as he could. "There was a power cut so rather than risk leaving last night I decided to sleep on the couch in my office. I would have called but there was no cell reception." Charlie lied. He hated lying. He never lied, not to his dad at least. Alan had always made it perfectly clear growing up that he could handle anything that his son's threw at him but he didn't condone lying. It was like a golden rule: 'Thou doth not lie to dad'.

"A power cut…well…I guess they…they can't be helped…I was just worried is all." Alan stepped back as if he had been slapped, fists clenched and back rigid Alan turned a cold shoulder on his son. "Charlie…? Why did you come home early? Where's Amita?"

"Dad," Charlie's voice broke with pain.

He couldn't do it. The words were choking in his throat. It was too soon. He didn't know how to explain any of it. Amita had cheated. She slept with another man and Charlie…Charlie had also almost slept with another man. Had the power not cut he was sure that was where they were leading and he wouldn't have been able to keep his faithful moral high ground anymore and Charlie really wanted to see and talk to Amita before rushing into anything with Ian. He wasn't sure if his marriage could be saved or if he even wanted it to. Regardless, Charlie just didn't know how to tell Alan about Ian yet. Not today. Not now. Not like this.

"I…I need more time and space right now. Amita and I are going through some stuff. I just. I can't talk about this right now. I'm sorry." Brushing past his frustrated father, Charlie ran up the stairs to the safety of his bedroom. He was a fool for thinking that being here was better than England. Mind you if he hadn't come home early then he wouldn't have known about Ian being back and ready to finally settle down. He didn't know why but that changed everything.

Angry, hurt and confused. Alan went back to the kitchen and put a fresh slice of toast in the toaster. He could count the number of time Charlie had lied to him on one hand, he was proud of that fact. It did, however, make each new lie that much harder to bear. What was Charlie doing last night that he would feel compelled to lie about it? Alan was certain that Charlie hadn't made up the power cut, which meant he was in Pasadena last night…what was in Pasadena?…It just made no sense. Grabbing the phone, Alan dialed Don. He'd had enough. Charlie may be unready to talk about whatever it was but he had better get ready. Alan wasn't standing for it anymore. If he wasn't going to let them in, then Don was just going to have to pry it out of him!

***Break***

Pulling up opposite a small detached bungalow on the out skirts of town, Don let his SUV idle as he watched the comings and goings of the quaint residential street. In comparison to the others, the house he was visiting was beautiful but tiny. The walls were white washed with dark green painted shutters and window boxes filled with a multitude of colorful flowers. On one side was a trellis with honeysuckle vines creeping up towards the red tiled roof and on the other was a basketball hoop above a built-in garage.

Smiling to himself, Don watched as a young boy, approximately six years old, squealed with joy as his father chased him from around the back of the house. Leaning down the tall stocky man scooped his young son up by the chest and raised him over his head, spinning him round and round as his tiny limbs spread out like the rotor blades of a helicopter. Without meaning to, Don felt a tiny stab of jealousy as a middle aged woman opened the front door and upon seeing the happy pair settled against the door frame to watch her husband and son. The love that radiated between the three was so overwhelming that Don couldn't help but think '_I want that'._

Turning off the ignition, Don got out of the car and made his way across the street. Elliott spotted him even before his feet hit the drive. "Don," He smiled and waved as his son stopped playing long enough to size up the stranger that had distracted his father from their game.

"Hey," Don smiled back as Lucas ducked behind his father's legs. "Who's the little guy?"

"That would be my son Lucas," Elliott beamed, pride rolling off of him in waves. "Lucas, this is daddy's friend Don. Come say hello."

"Hello," Lucas said from behind his father, his small arms hugging his leg tightly.

"Hello," Don laughed good-naturedly as Elliott's wife left her post at the door to collect her son.

"Karen, love, this is SAIC Don Eppes of the FBI," Elliott told her as he slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her in for a peck on the temple. She had waist length brown hair and dark soulful eyes. She was wearing a long floral patterned blue dress pinched in at the waist by a thin strapped belt. She had bare feet and her face was bare of makeup. She wasn't classically beautiful but Don could see the attraction. She was homely and brave, radiating passion and strength.

"It's nice to finally put a face to the name," She nodded in recognition. "I'm just glad that El's finally getting some help on this case. It's had him away from home too much lately. It's been nice having him back."

"Your husband is a fine detective, I'm just glad he decided to collaborate with us. His insights have proved to be invaluable." Don smiled sheepishly in return. He liked this ballsy no-nonsense straight taking woman. She was the perfect fit for Elliott and judging by the look of love that passed between them, Elliott agreed.

"Lucas baby, say goodbye to daddy." She bent down and picked up the reluctant child.

"Bye daddy," He whispered sadly.

"Don't worry boy," Elliott leant down and kissed the top of his young son's head loudly. "I'll be home tonight to tuck you in and finish reading that Thomas the Tank Engine story for you."

"Ok," Lucas smiled slightly as he clung to his mother's neck whilst eyeing Don suspiciously. At least that was how Don read it, he was awkward around kids. Well other peoples, he was sure it'd be different with his own one day…

"Ok then. Later darling," Karen said as she tilted her head upwards for the kiss she instinctively knew was coming. "Look after him," She told Don sternly before swooping back inside, leaving the pair standing in the front garden as she shut the door behind her.

"You have a lovely wife and son," Don clapped Elliott on the shoulder as the pair wandered back up the short driveway to Don's car.

"Detective Hayes!" A loud old woman shouted from a garden two doors down. "You-hoo!"

"A friend of yours?" Don raised a quizzical eyebrow whilst trying to keep the laughter from erupting out loud.

"The local neighborhood watch and busy body," Elliott whispered as he nodded and smiled to Mrs. Walker. "Mrs. Walker, a pleasure as always," Elliott lied as he clasped his hands diplomatically in front of him. "What can I do for you today?"

"I wanted to make sure that you were planning to attend tomorrow's meeting? Ms. Brown is baking her special brownies and there will be free coffee…" She started nattering away and Don was only marginally ashamed to admit he drifted off from boredom.

"Mrs. Walker, I will do my best," Elliott smiled a strained little smile as he waved goodbye and practically man handled Don to his car. "Sorry about that." He said once they both were seated. "Ever since she found out I was a cop it's been nonstop!"

"I think it's sweet," Don teased as he turned the ignition on and pulled out of his parking spot and onto the road. "Besides, Ms. Brown's cooking her _special _brownies. How can you miss out on that?" Don winked mischievously.

"Trust me I wish they were that _Special_," Elliott laughed heartily, putting air quotes around the word special. "Pot brownies might actually mellow some of these people out!"

"That's probably the wrong attitude for a cop to take but I just met the woman who runs your meetings!" Don laughed as they stopped to let a dog walker across the street. "So I'll let you off."

"Personally I'd take the football and a cold beer over the meetings but Karen makes me go, something about the importance of being neighborly… So anyway, what is so important you had to come collect me?" Elliott inquired curiously, changing the topic whilst Don was distracted.

"DNA's back. Claudia asked for you and Colby but he's been called away to help on a case he was on before this one." Don frowned as he indicated to turn left.

"Problem?" Elliott asked as he rested his head on the arm he had propped against the passenger side window.

"It's the Judge Tompkins case. It goes to trial in a week and the prosecutor needed Colby to answer a few questions, help prepare him for trial. It's a pretty big case." Don replied, a hint of sadness in his voice.

"Sounds big," Elliott nodded sagely. "I thought it was a pretty open and shut case though?"

"It is, but well I've known defenders that have won case like this because the prosecutor wasn't prepared or properly informed. No one wants this case fucked up on a technicality. We all need justice for the judge, family and cops alike. Colby's just there to make sure they know the ins and outs of the case." Don's grip tightened on the wheel.

"So the DNA…" Elliott swiftly changed the subject again, sensing Don's need to move the conversation back on track. They had all known the judge personally, which made cases like this that much more important and that much harder to win. It was times like this that Elliott was envious of Ian's ability to switch it all off when shooting.

"We may not have our killer today, but we'll have the answer to why Connie Burnett was targeted and who put her in the sights of a serial killer," Don replied as he pulled in to the LA County Morgue's large car park. The morgue was perhaps Elliott's least favourite place in the whole of LA. Unfortunately being a _homicide_ detective it kind of came with the job.

"Claudia, what do you have for us?" Don asked when they made it into one of the many examination rooms.

"A couple of things," She replied, skipping the hellos. "Tox panel came back on Connie Burnett."

"And…?" Elliott asked impatiently, trying not to look at the little girl lying dead on the table beside him.

"_And_ she had Flunitrazepam in her system." She replied as she plucked a file up from her desk and handed it to Don.

"She was roofied?" He asked horrified.

"It makes sense in a sort of twisted way," She sighed sadly. "Flunitrazepam, or Rohypnol as it is more commonly known, is a powerful sedative and judging by the levels found in her system our suspect wasn't taking any chances. It's also the reason that there are no defensive wounds on her body save for the minor bruising around her mouth and the tearing in her vaginal wall."

"And the DNA? Was it Michael?" Don asked his anger obvious as his large hand cradled the top of the dead child's head protectively.

"No Don, Michael's clear. He didn't abuse his child-"

"-Oh thank God!" Don cried happily. Robin would be pleased, not that Don had really suspected Michael when he'd waved his right to make them need a warrant. He had seemed genuinely surprised and angry.

"I'm not finished," Claudia replied, bringing Don crashing back to earth.

"We got a hit?" Elliott asked hopefully.

"No, no matches to anyone in the system but that's not important because whilst the sample wasn't Michael's it did share enough genetic markers for me to say without a doubt that you are looking for a brother." Handing over a second file to Don, Claudia watched as her news sunk in. "Sibling DNA tests aren't conclusive though. I've seen it tossed out of court before, so unless you're willing to play Russian roulette with which judge gets assigned to the case, get me that other sample.

"A sibling? I didn't realize Michael had any…" Elliott replied confused. "Don? You know something?"

"Robert," Don whispered angrily. "Son of a bitch!"

"Who? Wait…what?" Elliott asked, taking the file off of Don and giving it a glance of his own.

"Michael's only brother Robert. He's five years younger and well…kind of the black sheep of the family. Michael asked Robin for help getting Robert out of a sticky situation a few months back…I just don't…I don't understand why he did this…to his own niece." Shaking his head, Don thanked Claudia before storming out of the morgue, headed straight for his car and then the Burnett family residence.

Running after him Elliot managed to slam the door shut before Don could climb inside. "Don't drive angry, give me your keys."

"El, I'm fine…" Don tried to pull at the handle on the door but Elliott was stronger than he looked.

"Keys," He held his hand out, his voice firm as if he was ordering the key's back from Lucas-which happened more than he liked to admit.

"Fine," Don slammed them into Elliot's waiting hand before storming around to the other side of the car and climbed in. "I've got to call Robin, have her meet us there," Don stated as he pulled his mobile out of his jeans pocket and was surprised to see a missed call from his father. Putting the phone to his ear, Don called his answerphone to listen to the message.

"Hey Don," Alan said down the phone. "I guess you're busy…I just wanted to call and let you know that I've changed my mind. You should talk to your brother. I know…I know what I said but Don, Charlie lied. He didn't come home last night and then he lied about where he had been. Does Pasadena mean anything to yo-" Unfortunately Alan was cut off before he could finish the message. Don wasn't sure what was going on but it couldn't be good. Lying to their father was like a cardinal sin growing up.

"Problem?" Elliott asked from the driver's side of the car as he punched in the address for the Burnett family home on Don's GPS.

"Just a voice mail from my dad, it was weird. Something about my brother…" Don replied, distracted temporarily from his previous anger.

"Oh, Charlie right?" Elliott nodded as he switched the ignition on and pulled out of the morgue's car park.

"Yes, Charlie…how did you know that?" Don asked surprised.

"I met him last night at Ian's," Elliott replied, turning south as he followed the GPS's directions.

"Last night…at Ian's?" Don repeated, still confused. "Does Ian live in Pasadena by any chance?"

"Yeah, didn't you know that? He's housesitting whilst his adoptive father is on holiday. It's really quite a nice house, though it's hard to imagine Ian growing up there, though I suppose he only stayed there from fifteen onwards. Before that it was foster homes and the streets." Elliott rambled on, unaware of the confusion he was causing in Don.

"Ian told you all that?...about Kevin?...his time in care and on the streets?" Don asked surprised.

"Yup and about his mother being a drug addict." Elliott nodded as he indicated right.

"Wow, I'm amazed. Ian usually isn't so forthright with his past," Don replied impressed. "I knew him three years before he told me anything at all!"

"People find me easy to talk to," Elliott shrugged as he stopped at a set of traffic lights.

"Huh…" Don said impressed as he watched Elliott through slanted eyes. "And Charlie just…turned up? It wasn't planned?"

"Ian seemed surprised but then who wouldn't be. Your brother was soaking wet. I think he'd been standing outside for a while unsure whether or not to come in."

"Why do you say that?" Don asked carefully.

"Because…Ian was reluctant to let him in, then he asked me to stay… I had to get home though, so I don't know what happened after that. Why?" Elliott finally glanced over at Don curiously.

"No reason, I just…it's nothing." Putting a pin in his father's confusing message and Elliott's new information, Don called Robin and told her to meet him at the Burnett home. He would have to deal with his family later. He had a pedophile to take down and this time Robert wouldn't be getting Robin and Michael's help out of it.

***Break***

"You're sure about this?" Michael Burnett asked numbly. It was hard for Don to tell exactly how Michael was feeling, it's not every day you get told that your brother was sexually abusing your six year old daughter.

"Yes, and if you're completely honest with yourself too, then you know that we're right," Don nodded in reply as Robin patted Michael's arm consolingly.

"Ok, follow me," Michael said to no one in particular. "Robert is staying in the pool house. I have a spare key."

"Maybe you should stay here," Robin told Michael concerned.

"No," was all he said, before getting up and moving over to the garden's large glass sliding doors and lead the way down a long winding path to an outside pool and small apartment.

There was loud music playing from somewhere inside and Don had to shout to be heard, "ROBERT BURNETT?"

After a few minutes with no reply, Michael shouted: "ROB!" at the top of his lungs whilst slamming his fist repeatedly on the fragile door causing the glass to shatter. He was just about to whip out the spare key when the door swung inwards to reveals a younger, shorter, blonder version of Michael.

"Mike?" Robert asked confused, his eyes squinting as he tried to take in the small crowd outside his door. "What's going on?"

"These officers are here for a DNA sample," Michael replied shortly, his body rigid and his arms clasped tightly to his chest.

"Don't they need a warrant for that? Robert asked, automatically jumping to the defensive as he folded his arms and moved his body to bar the entrance.

"Actually we don't need a warrant. Your bother owns the premises and he's given us permission to search his house for evidence of sexual assault," Don smiled evilly like a cat that had cornered its prey.

"That includes the pool house," Elliott added for emphasis.

"Well I guess I have no choice," Robert replied not bothered as he stepped out of the house and out of the way of the door.

Perhaps it was too many years in the job or indigestion, but Don's gut was telling him something. It was shouting, nay screaming, '_that was way too easy',_ at the top of its lungs and Don rarely ignored his gut. It was how he'd managed to stay alive all these years. Waiting as the others made their way inside, Don watched Robert edge further away from the pool house and closer to a side gate in the garden, a grim determination on his face.

"After you Mr. Burnett," Don smiled, gesturing at the door whilst taking a step closer to their suspect. It was in that moment as realization dawned on Robert's face, that Don wasn't going to enter the house without him, that Robert decided to make a bolt for it.

"Elliott, he's running!" Don shouted as he undid the clasp on his gun and chased after their fleeing suspect. Unsure whether Elliott had even heard him, Don followed Robert as he leaped the neighbor's fence and landed with a thud on the other side. Hesitating for a second, Don shook his arms and legs and made a running jump for the fence, mercifully getting the right angle to swing his body up and under his arms. It wasn't like he'd been sitting behind a desk for the last three months and was out of practice, it was just that he had been sitting behind a desk for three months and was definitely out of practice! Thankfully for Don their suspect was out of practice too and hadn't gotten much further ahead.

Ignoring the jolting pain in his right foot as he landed the jump awkwardly, Don raised his pistol and continued pursuit over three more neighbors' fences until they both landed winded into the street next to Michael's. "Stop FBI!" Don shouted, leveling his weapon at Robert's chest. The shot missed, however, as Robert ducked down a slip road that wasn't obvious from where Don had landed from the last jump. Swearing loudly, Don followed Robert down the slip road and into a dead end.

Seeing no escape, Robert made a hasty leap for one of the fences that the road backed on to. Expecting as much, Don pushed harder and faster until he reached Robert and managed to grab him by the back of his loose jeans and yanked him to the ground.

"Don?" Elliott shouted worriedly from the main road.

"Down here!" Don wheezed back as he put a foot on Robert's back to stop him from getting back up.

"Don!" Elliott shouted amazed as his arms raised in a 'what the fuck?' manor.

"He ran," Don smiled mischievously, his breathing shallow and his side hurting from a stich that had formed as he ran.

"I love it when they run," Elliott told Don as he pulled out his cuffs and reached down to pull Robert's hands behind his back. "Makes it so much easier to tell who's guilty."

"Tell me about it," Don smiled as he helped Elliott pull Robert back to his feet and shoved him in the general direction of the Burnett home. "Colby's going to be gutted, he loves giving chase!" Don laughed a little manically as the adrenaline continued to course through his tired body, his heart thumping loudly in his chest.

"Don!" Robin practically screamed when the trio came into view at the end of the street. Letting Elliott handle Robert, Don gave Robin a massive hug as she ran straight into his outstretched arms. "Are you ok?" She whispered, her face burrowed in his chest.

"Just peachy," He lied. The adrenaline was finally wearing off and he was suddenly aware of a sharp stinging pain in his foot.

"You're hurt!" She shouted as she snaked his arm across her shoulders and used her slender frame to help prop him up and carried him up to the house where a fight was breaking out.

"How _could_ you? After everything dad did to us!" Michael was red in the face and screaming furiously at his unaffected brother. "How could you hurt my little girl the way he hurt us!" When he didn't reply Michael decked Robert one on the nose causing it to bleed.

"You never understood," Robert spat back finally pissed. "Not then and not now. I won't explain myself to you!"

"She did nothing to you but love you and you assaulted her! You murdered her!"

"I loved her! And unlike you I had the balls to show her how much!" Robert smiled twistedly, blood dripping down his mouth and chin. "Oh come now," he grinned. "Don't act like you haven't thought about it! The way dad touched you, touched me. It made you feel special, important. Well I made Connie feel special. I let her know that she was important."

"You bastard!" Michael whispered, his body shaking with anger and mortification as he took in his little audience for the first time. "Don, get him away from me!"

"Robert Burnett, I am arresting on suspicion of the sexual assault of Connie Burnett. You have the right to remain silent; anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?" Don asked Robert after reading him his rights.

"What about him? I want him done for assault!" Robert shouted as he resisted Don to scream at his brother.

"I didn't see anything," Don smiled pleasantly at Robert as he opened the back door to his SUV and forced Robert on the back seat with a gentle push on the head. "You tripped, didn't he El?"

"That's right," Elliott smiled grimly. "He tripped."

"That's crap!" Robert shouted disgustedly. "He hit me and I want him done!"

Leaning in close, Don whispered fiercely in Roberts's ear, "You know what they do to pedophiles in prison? Huh? It isn't pretty. Now I'd shut that trap of yours before I decide to take a minute out of my day to get you a roommate that thinks your real pretty. My advice, don't bend down for the soap any time soon."

"I…no…you can't!" Robert floundered afraid as the enormity of his situation finally dawned on him.

"Don't give me reason to then," Don winked as he gently slapped Robert on the cheek and shut the back door.

"Don?" Robin asked as she came over to her fiancé and turned him to face her. "Is everything ok?"

"Everything's great," He grinned impossibly.

"Good. Here's your sample," she told him as she placed an evidence bag into Don's outstretched hands. "Oh and Elliott, make sure he sees someone about his foot," She kissed Don quickly on the lips before stepping back and letting the pair get into the car.

Waving goodbye, Robin waited a full thirty seconds before returning to the house and her assistant district attorney. That was quite a bombshell that he had just dropped on them and for once Robin was unsure how to be there for him. In the end she settled for a hug as he crumpled into her embrace and wept for hours until he had no more tears to give.

***Break***

Back at the office Elliott found Don sitting in the observation room, waiting and watching as their suspect stewed. All that separated them was a thin sheet of tinted glass that allowed them to see in without being seen. It's funny how wherever Elliott went that sheet of glass was always the same, even if the room wasn't. Back at the precinct, their interrogation room was a little box of a room with a cell like door and no windows, the only furniture a metal desk and chairs. The room was nicknamed the oven because it was always baking hot and the suspects got a grilling there.

Here, however, the interrogation room was a glass cube with shutters on all the windows. All were drawn save for the exterior wall with a view that let the suspect know how high up they were whilst letting in the sun in horizontal stripes that cast the image of bars in the shadows. Everything from the cameras to the temperature of the room was controlled by a computer that sat in a separate observation room that was built between two identical interrogation suits. Their suspect Robert Burnett sat in one, whilst the other lay dormant. Elliott supposed that it was useful when you had two suspects that needed separating. You could watch them both at the same time and monitor who was the most likely to cop a plea first. It was just another thing to be intimidated by, he supposed.

"Have you gone in yet?" Elliott asked Don, who wasn't looking too good. His suit jacket had been discarded over the desk, his tie was gone and his shirt had been opened at the collar. He wouldn't say as much, but Elliott could see the pain in the hard set to Don's jaw and his white knuckled grasp on the desk that he was perched on whilst his foot rested on the room's only chair.

"I'm letting him sweat," Don grimaced as he shifted to make room for the detective.

Sitting down next to Don, Elliott took in their suspect. He was a young man, Elliott estimated twenty four maybe twenty five. He had longish blond hair that was almost white in appearance and the family grey eyes. The resemblance to Michael considering their five year difference was remarkable. They both had strong square shoulders and straight roman noses. Robert was dressed in a white sleeveless tank top and faded levies, the casual to his brothers smart. He was also sporting metal bracelets, Don had cuffed him to the table and Robert was playing with them now whilst occasionally shouting at the window.

"How's the foot?" Elliott asked concerned as Don added a couple more degrees to the already uncomfortable heat in the interrogation room.

"The doctor say's I have a stress fracture. They were worried about it displacing so they've put it in the boot as a precaution." Don frowned at his foot. "The doc wasn't pleased that I kept chasing our suspect, thinks I've done some damage to it. Either way he reckons it can take anywhere between six to eight weeks to heal. Till then I'm stuck in these things!" Don gestured angrily at the crutches resting next to him.

"That sucks; after all you are the most hands on SAIC I've ever met." Elliott smiled. "I thought you'd be like the captain, always in the office being updated on the case. But your something else altogether!" Elliott laughed. "You're like a rock star. I've honestly never met a more down to earth guy and I mean that genuinely. I know how stressful my job can be, but you…you put everything you have into this case and don't you have other cases to oversee and teams to keep check of?"

"Yeah, well…you should see my office! I'm not really managing this whole SAIC thing too well…" Don brushed off the compliment, blushing slightly in embarrassment. "I am being kept appraised of the other active cases and one day I will sort out my office, but I don't know, this case…it…it…"

"I know…" Elliott smiled easily, comfortable in Don's company. "It gets under your skin."

"Exactly!" Don half laughed half coughed. "Look, I'm new to the whole being the boss, the captain as it were. I mean I was in charge of my team but that was heading one team, now heading several, especially ones that think I'm shit at my job…it isn't easy, I won't lie. I wasn't messing around though when I made this priority one case. We need to stop this guy and if that means me putting everything I have into it and then going home being with my fiancée, waiting till she falls asleep and then getting up and spending half the night on the other cases I will. All I know is how to be and agent. I guess I'll have to practice at the whole staying aloof and delegating thing…after the LA Child Snatcher is behind bars…"

"Personally? I wouldn't change, not a bit. You're clearly in charge and your approach; well it's really quite refreshing. If I'm not careful I think I'm going to lose my partner to the FBI!" Elliott laughed, though a little part of him wondered if he was hitting the nail on the head. Brian had been complaining a lot lately. He needed to be challenged and as much as Elliott hated the thought of breaking in a new partner, he liked the thought of Brian finally doing something for himself and not for or against his family. "I dropped the sample off by the way," Elliott told Don as he dug into his pocket for the keys to Don's car. "Here are your keys."

"Did you tell Claudia to rush the sample?" Don asked suddenly agitated again. He'd had to see the doctor about his foot after booking Robert and had needed to leave it up to Elliott to see the sample safely to Claudia's lab. It's not that he didn't trust anyone other than Claudia; it was just that no one else was as invested as Claudia was. It was her table that all the girls had ended up on after all.

"She knows we can only hold him for twenty four hours, she's going to do her best," Elliott sighed. Sometimes it was annoying knowing that you had your man but the lab was over worked and unable to produce the results in time. The amount of scum got away with crimes on a technicality sickened him. He was determined this time; _Robert Burnett wasn't walking on this one!_

"The AD, Nick, is working on getting us thirty six hours. I know it's a long shot, that kind of special holding is generally reserved for murder charges, but he is a person of interest in a major serial killer case…so who knows, Nick might be able to do it. I've seen him work a miracle or two in his time…" Checking his watch, Don lowered his foot and slid off the table. "We should go interrogate our suspect detective," Don smiled sardonically. "Who knows maybe he'll not lawyer up or call us on our complete lack of evidence."

"You never know," Elliott smiled wolfishly in reply. "Stranger things have happened."

"That they have," Don smiled back as he opened the door to the interrogation room, ignoring the crutches. He didn't want to look weak, first impressions were important in interrogations and Don could manage to walk with only the slightest of limps so long as he manned up and swallowed the pain. He was made of tougher stuff and Elliott admired him for it.

"That they have," Elliott repeated as he entered the room and sat opposite Robert whilst Don stood over by the window, his index and middle finger holding a blind down so he could see out the window.

"Let me tell you how this is going to go…" Don smiled savagely as Robert winced, his head snapping to Elliott's equally unfriendly face, his ghost eyes boring into Robert's as he gulped for air…

***Heathrow Airport,**

**England***

"Welcome to flight UA 629 to Los Angeles," the pilot's voice trailed over the tannoy, breaking into Amita's troubled thoughts. "Please put on your seat belts and prepare for take-off. The time is ten p.m. and we should be arriving in LA around eight a.m. Enjoy the flight."

Groaning internally, Amita triple checked that her seat belt was still fastened. She wasn't a nervous flyer; she was fine _once_ they were in the air. She would quite happily live without the actual taking off and landing. It hadn't been so bad when she had first flown out to England because Charlie had been there to kiss and hold her hand and she missed him now. More importantly she hated that she had screwed up so badly. Charlie not being here was her fault, though she still felt like she shouldn't shoulder all of the responsibility….

Besides he was the one who had buggered off back to America, leaving her in a foreign land without even telling her! She'd thought he had gone to another hotel or something and she'd catch him at school and try to talk to him but no, Charlie needing space clearly equaled getting on a plane and flying ten hours to another country just to get away from her. She hadn't known a thing until Alan had phoned.

"Are you ok Ma'am?" The nice looking gentleman next to her asked, concern wrinkling his unusually broad brow. He had an American accent and the little comforting piece of home relaxed her a little.

"I'm fine, just not big on takeoffs," Amita smiled her thanks, he looked busy and important in an expensive pin stripped tailored suit and tie. He had a brief case in his lap, but he put it on the floor to take her hand.

"I'm Mitch," He smiled, as he gave it a comforting squeeze.

"Amita," She managed a small smile as the plane moved from the terminal to the runway, her hand now holding his in a death grip.

"Why don't you put these on?" He asked handing her his eye mask. "I'll let you know when it's over."

"Thanks," She smiled gratefully as she put on the blindfold. With her eyes covered she could almost pretend that it was Charlie's hand that she was squeezing, even though she knew he was in America and that she had driven him there.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

*24 Hours Later…*

There's a moment in every detectives career, when they look back on a particular case and say: "That's the one I should have solved." However, worse than the unsolved case is the case where your gut tells you that you have the perp in your holding cells but there is no evidence to back you up, setting the suspect free.

"I can't believe the judge wouldn't give us an extra day!" Elliott shouted angrily, throwing his arms up in the air dramatically as he continued to pace the busy foyer.

"Nick tried…" Don grimaced as he shifted his sore foot, which was insanely itchy in the plaster boot.

"We almost had him too! If only his lawyer had been two minutes late! I know he was ready to crack!" Rubbing his tired face, Elliott swung around and paced back towards Don.

"El, Let it go," Don told him sadly. "The results will come back in a day or two and then we'll go back and arrest him properly."

"Don…we both know the second he leaves the station he's in the wind," Elliott sighed loudly as the alarm buzzed and two uniformed officers escorted a dishevelled Robert Burnett from the cell block at the back of the large room. Upon seeing them, Robert raised a mocking hand and waved.

"I know," Don replied quietly, so they wouldn't be over heard. "That's why I've put Nikki on his tail. She's waiting for him outside. He's not allowed to leave the country, he heads for Mexico and we've got him."

"At least it's something I guess," Elliott whined as he flopped down into the hard plastic chair next to Don.

"Agent Eppes, Detective Hayes," Robert smiled handsomely as he approached the disgruntled pair, making a point of showing his un-handcuffed wrists. "It's been…well it's been real. I have to go but you two have a good day…ok?"

Putting his hand on Elliott's arm in warning, Don gave his head the slightest of nods in the direction of the entrance. Across the room his eyes locked on Claudia's and he knew. They had him!

"Robert!" Don shouted causing Robert to turn back and face him, unaware of the approaching mortician. "I'm arresting you for the sexual assault of Connie Burnett."

"Not this again," Robert grinned, though his brow showed signs of irritation. "We've gone over this before…what was it my lawyer said…oh yeah that's it…lack of sufficient evidence."

"Your right, except that was before the DNA came back," Elliott smiled, his shoulders loosening with relief.

"What?" Robert looked around him slack jawed as he finally clocked the small Latino woman with a thick folder and a gaze that was like simmering acid.

"Like I said," Don replied as Elliott got out his cuffs. "I'm arresting you for the sexual assault of Connie Burnett. You have the right to remain silent; anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?"

"This is ridiculous!" Robert held his hands out to ward off the angry mortician as she grew closer and closer.

"Cheers," Elliott smiled mercilessly as he slapped his cuffs on Robert's right wrist before using it as leverage to get his hands behind his back where he could cuff them properly.

"I'd better ring the DA," Don told Elliott as he made a show of taking the file from Claudia and giving it a long and tantalizingly slow read. "She'll want to handle this case _personally._" Whistling to the two guards that had released Robert only minutes before, Don waved them over and handed Robert back into their custody. "Make sure he gets a cell mate that he can really…_bond _with," Don told them coldly. Robert deserved everything that prison had to throw at him, Don just hoped justice was served and he got the maximum sentence.

"That was quite a show!" Claudia smiled appreciatively when they were alone again, neither her nor Elliott mentioning Don's little request as the left the lobby together.

"I'm just glad you got here when you did," Elliott laughed as his blood rushed from the tiny victory. Connie's predator was behind bars, now just to catch her killer…

"Yeah, you did good," Don gave Claudia's hand a quick squeeze of appreciation. "We're not there yet though!" He voiced Elliott's own thoughts. There was still a child killer on the loose with a girl still missing and Don _needed_ to save that little girl. Time was ticking away and Don hated being on a serial killers clock. They needed a break in this case. Lily Blake's life depended on it.

"We'd better get back to the office, thanks again Clau," Elliott said as he gave her a quick hug goodbye before helping Don to the passenger side of his red Chevy Impala.

"I have a stop to make on the way," Don replied as he climbed into the passenger's seat.

"Where to?" Elliott asked confused as he climbed into the driver's seat and turned the ignition on.

"It's Judge Tompkins funeral today, I told Mavis's that I'd pop in on the wake," Don sighed. He hated funerals, then again who didn't. He just…he really wanted to remember the judge as the man he was when he was in court, strict, fair, decent. He wore the wig and robe with pride but he wasn't above a quick sherry between cases. He was an extrovert. He wore loud Hawaiian shirts and shorts under his robe in the summer and stupid reindeer ties at Christmas, just for the smile it would bring to his granddaughters' faces. He was a family man, large and round with equally round spectacles and a pocket watch clipped to his waistcoat. Don didn't want to imagine the judge dead and shrivelled in the early stages of decomp-a shotgun wound to the chest…

"Of course," Elliott nodded grimly as he put the car into drive and headed towards Beverly Hills and the Judge's mansion there.

***Break***

Grabbing the red dustpan and brush, Tessa Mawby bent down to start cleaning the sandwich counter. It was much later than she had wanted to start the end of day cleaning but word was about that the area manager was making the rounds, which meant Ferris, her manager, was being more of a jerk than usual. If that was even possible!

"Tessa," Ferris sighed irritably. "Do you mind serving a min?"

"Of course," She grumbled under her breath, putting the dustpan and brush back down and got up to see _one_ other customer. _Seriously?_ She thought unimpressed. _I'm sorry I didn't realise two people was too much of a queue for you!_

"Can I help?" She asked a tall striking man in an expensive looking suit as she pushed her name on the till.

"Two coffees," The man replied, looking up for a fraction of a second before returning to his phone call.

"Which?" She asked moodily. She didn't have time for this.

"Surprise me!" The man replied condescendingly as Ferris finished his order and buggered off back up stairs. _Great!_ Tessa thought angrily as she stomped over to the coffee machine and put a cup under the nozzle as four more customers walked in and joined the queue. Two is too much for Ferris to handle but God forbid he leaves the office to do his job and help out every once and a while. At this rate she would never get her cleaning done, which meant she would be leaving work late, which meant she wouldn't get home till after dark!

Pressing down on the button for a white coffee, Tessa tapped furiously on the machine as it took its sweet ass time to pour. "I'm going to be at that table over there," The man said as he hung up the phone and irritably placed a ten dollar note on the counter. Like she had time to wait tables now too!

"Fine," She replied through gritted teeth as Dawn came down from her break and started serving the forever expanding line. "What's he doing up there?" Tessa whispered as Dawn came over to use the duel machine for the next customer's order. It was two in the afternoon but it might as well have been a Saturday lunch rush.

"He's taking a personal call," Dawn whispered back as she ran her fingers through her chest length black hair. She was stunning in a tragic beauty kind of way. She was wearing a loose Frankie says relax t-shirt that hung off one shoulder and was tied at the bottom to show her bellybutton ring. She wore the company apron slung low on her hips to cover the rips in her skinny black jeans. It was hardly appropriate but Ferris let it slide because Dawn was beautiful and Tessa could only wish to have an ounce of Dawns looks.

Having battled with weight issues all her life, Tessa was always the fat friend and never the beautiful leading lady. She had mousy blond hair that she dyed a milk chocolate brown in a vain attempt to look nice. She'd recently had it cut into a little bob to try and hide the roundness to her cheeks. Her hair was her only vice and she did her level best to straighten and keep it nice every day. She had a small rosebud mouth, button nose and ordinary brown eyes.

Usually she didn't bother with makeup but then again she had pretty smooth skin and had no real need for the likes of foundation or blusher. She was wearing a light blue top with long sleeves and dipping neck line to hide the flab on the tops of her arms whilst revealing a little cleavage as a distraction. She accompanied this with light blue, loose fitting jeans and the green company pinafore.

"Doesn't he see the line?" Tessa asked rhetorically as she put the next coffee on to pour. She knew that Ferris could as there was a CCTV monitor mounted to the office wall next to the computer, his favourite spot in the world…or so it seemed.

"Oh yeah," Dawn shrugged unhappily. "He took one look and told me to finish my break early!"

"How long did you have left?" Tessa looked disbelievingly at the clock mounted on the wall above the entrance.

"Fifteen minutes," She replied as she put a lid on her coffee and handed it to the waiting customer.

"But you leave in an hour!" Tessa shook her head annoyed. Dawn had waited patiently for her break all morning and they both knew she wouldn't get it now. There was no way Ferris was coming back down. As soon as two o'clock came and he went to check the lunch time figures, he might as well have left the shop because you would not see him again till he leaves or goes to the bank with the money clearly visible in his hand. Tessa and Dawn had started nicknaming the office 'his home away from home' as he never seemed to leave it and some days he would disappear for entire mornings or afternoons! _Idiot…twat!_ She fumed incredulously. Sometimes she wished she could tell their area manager what her little golden boy got up to on a daily basis, all of it dodgy and definitely not following procedure.

Grabbing her two coffees, Tessa moved around the counter to deliver them to the man in the suit who was now accompanied by some stick thin model with a celery shake or whatever disgusting health drink people were buying these days. Too busy cursing her job for the thousandth time that day; Tessa didn't see the man until she had walked straight into him, the coffee spilling everywhere, all over herself, all over the customer and all over the floor.

Mortified, Tessa stood frozen, rooted to the spot with the two crushed and now empty coffee cups in her hands. "Oh my God," She whispered as the other customers looked on and laughed.

"What's going on?" Ferris's loud voice boomed from behind the counter. He sounded pissed. It was typical too. The one time he comes to help out and he arrives on time to see her humiliation!

"My fault," the customer smiled easily as he grabbed some paper napkins from the kiosk that floated in the middle of the room and offered them to the now bright red Tessa. He had short cropped brown hair, kind hazel eyes and a thick jaw and neck. He had a stocky but trim build, with very wide and broad shoulders.

"Tessa?" Ferris asked expectantly as he marched around the counter to add to her mortification. The kind man was really quite handsome and she had never felt so embarrassed in her entire life.

"I…I…" She didn't know what to say, her hand was killing her from where the coffee had burnt her exposed flesh and Ferris really did look pissed.

"Like I said. My fault." The customer lied smoothly as he sized Ferris up and dismissed him just as quickly. Turning his back on the fuming manager the man took her small hand in his large one and examined the red welts that had formed on the back of her right hand, her drawing hand. "Are you ok?" He asked concerned. "You really should put this under cold water."

"I'm ok," She whispered, her eyes cast the floor. He was being too nice. In her experience customers usually treated her like dirt. Mainly because the shop was situated in a small business complex and most of her customers were important men in a hurry to get somewhere well…important. Not this man, however. No he was kind and gentle in his touch and waited patiently for her to meet his worried gaze. "I'm ok, really!" She squeaked as she went bright red all over again, this time from a different kind of embarrassment.

"Good!" Ferris boomed from behind the strange customer as he puffed out his chest and straightened his back in annoyance. "Then get back to work!"

"She's taking a break," The man told Ferris, shifting his weight till he towered over the now somewhat intimidated manager. "I'm agent Colby Granger of the FBI," He said as he turned back to face Tessa. "I'm assuming you're Tessa Mawby?" He smiled a sweet friendly, boy next door, smile completely unaware that he was still holding her sore hand in his rough calloused ones.

"I am," She nodded entranced as small tingles made their way up her sore palm.

"I was hoping to bump into you," He laughed as she cringed. "Sorry…" He grinned handsomely. "Too soon?"

"Perhaps a little," She risked a little smile back as her blush deepened, adding some colour to her normally pale cheeks.

"I have a few questions about the other day. This won't take long," He threw over his shoulder as he guided the slightly dazed Tessa behind the counter and up the stairs to the same office that doubled as a break room that she had been cursing only minutes before, leaving Ferris to clean up the spilt coffee and deal with the irate customer. Well…served him right, Tessa smiled weakly as agent Granger…Colby helped her to rinse her sore hand under the cold tap. He was standing so close that she could smell the intoxicating mix of soap and sea. She could only assume he surfed. She'd always wanted to try but was afraid she might end up looking like a beached whale in a wetsuit.

"Is that better?" Colby asked concerned, his thumb rubbing her hand gently under the water.

"Much," She smiled warmly, still a little light headed. "Sorry…you had questions for me?"

"That can wait a moment," Colby replied smoothly, his voice deep and gravelly as he looked questioningly into her dark brown eyes. He looked confused but in a curious sort of way. Looking down, Tessa blushed prettily as she cringed at the large stain on his nicely pressed sea green shirt and Levi's that were worn in all of the right places.

"I'm sorry about your shirt!" She bit her lip to stop the insane bubble of laughter that suddenly came to her.

"Are you laughing at me?" He laughed confused.

"I'm sorry," She replied as her body shook from the suppression. "I just…this is ridiculous…" It really was a laugh or cry moment and as if sensing her need, Colby chuckled as well.

"Feeling better?" He asked meaning her hand but Tessa couldn't help but think about her life from graduating to starting in the shop. _"Yes…things are definitely looking _much_ better."_ Grinning suddenly, Colby gave her that curious but confused smile again, causing Tessa to blush as she realised that she had said it aloud and that it had come out a little breathlessly.

"Perhaps we should start," She smiled; her laugher now quailed by her embarrassment.

"Yes definitely," He replied, straightening, all of a sudden, all business like. Tessa was sad to see it but reminded herself that she was only fooling herself. _Fat friend_, she whispered to herself in case she had forgotten. This was not a story and she definitely wasn't the leading lady…but if she was…if only she was!

Sitting on the small break room couch, Tessa put her hands in her lap as Colby joined her on the small over stuffed sofa that dipped in the middle causing his leg to press up against hers. "Sorry…" She mumbled, not sorry at all.

"I know it's probably something you don't want to think about ever again but I need to ask you some more questions about…your little discovery the other day." Colby told her apologetically as he put an arm on the top of the couch behind her and tried to turn his body to face hers.

"No…but ask anyway…" Tessa shivered, her body hunching over. She hadn't slept properly since that night and the thought of talking about it made her want to puke. Neither of which she was going to mention to Colby. That was the last thing she wanted. "I want to help you any way I can…"

"Thanks," Colby smiled appreciatively as he reached into his pocket and pulled his notebook out of his pocket and held out an image of a face, presumably done by a police sketch artist. "Have you seen this man before?"

"No…" She replied a little shaken. "Was that the wrong answer?" She asked uncertainly.

"No," Colby replied disappointed as he flipped a page and crossed her name off of a long list of witnesses. Hers was the last one on the list and they were all crossed off.

"But I've seen that logo before," She added, pointing to the back page to the one he was on.

"This? You've seen this before?" He sat up straight and held the image out for her again.

"Yes, it's the local council's garden service logo: 'Landscaping your landscape'. Corny right?" She laughed, but Colby was distracted.

"Son of a bitch," He whispered recognising the logo himself now. "How did I miss that?"

"So I did good? I've helped?" She asked a little nervously.

"Good? You did great! Thank you!" He jumped up excitedly. "This was the break we needed! Do you mind coming back to the FBI offices with me?"

"Right now?" She asked worriedly, her eyes darting to the door.

"I'll square it with the twerp downstairs," He nodded as he grabbed her left hand and kissed it in triumph.

"Ok then," She smiled back. _Ferris would just have to close the shop himself for once! _She thought remorselessly as she grabbed her coat and bag from her locker and followed Colby back downstairs. She was so happy and Colby was still holding her left hand. Dawn smiled and waved goodbye, miming for Tessa to call her whilst Ferris glowered from the corner. Tessa would pay for leaving; Ferris would see to that but right then and there Tessa didn't care. She was way too happy to care!

**End of Part One**

**Author's Note:**

Hey guys,

Had to make an unscheduled stop here as I am going away on holiday for two weeks in France, starting next week! I wasn't intending on doing the story in parts but I sensed that it might be a good place to leave it for the time being. I've been adlibbing a lot lately from my original story plan but coincidentally still somehow arrived at the perfect moment to have this little 'hiatus' as Tessa unwittingly supplies the break that was needed in this case.

I am working two jobs at the moment, so for a little while at least, the updates are going to be slow and far between. It can't be helped but annoyingly real life has a way of getting in the way! I have big plans for part two as I finally introduce the LA Child Snatcher and we find out the answer to the question I hope is on all of you lips: "Does Lily Blake survive?"

Thanks for all your reviews and kind words so far and I hope to see you in Chapter eight, the start of part two, in a few weeks time.

Goodbye, or I suppose I should be saying:

Au revoir mes amis!

;)

Colby's Girl 19 x


	8. Chapter 8

**Part 2: **

_*"I'm cool until everything quiets down. Then it's like my head is a bad neighbourhood to be in." – Don Eppes: Season 2, Episode 21: __Rampage*_

**Chapter 8**

***1 week later***

In the past Agent Ian Edgerton would have said that his misspent youth in the foster system was the hardest and most challenging years of his life, but the past three months had surpassed even his own jaded expectations. Don't get him wrong, he had learnt at an early age that life was hard, complicated and generally messy as hell. Nothing was black _or_ white, there was only varying shades of grey.

After all, life was never going to be easy for a half American half Filipino crack baby, deserted by his mother in the slums of LA at age five. His father had never been in the picture but apparently he was a dealer somewhere in LA, Ian didn't exactly _want_ to know the rest. All he needed to know was that one night desperate to score; his mother had used her body as collateral and had not been careful. Ian had just been a reminder of how low she had sunk and of how screwed up her life really was. Ian had been conceived in a weak moment. He was a _mistake_ and he'd had to contend with that feeling his entire life.

Ian Edgerton wasn't even his real name. His real name was Julian Reyes. He had shortened his first name to Ian when he was ten and in his ninth foster home. Julian just hadn't seemed tough enough at the time and he'd needed to get tough just to survive. He wasn't saying all foster homes were bad. His first had been perfect, till they'd had a child of their own. The second time around he was a little more jaded, started getting into trouble. The family couldn't handle it. They wanted a good straight 'A' violin playing prodigy or at least that was what they traded him in for. By the third home, the fact that it _was_ the third home meant that Ian wasn't good enough for the 'good' families. By age seven Ian was trapped in a vicious circle-he wasn't wanted and by that point he hadn't wanted them either.

None of that mattered anymore though. Aged fifteen and ironically in his fifteenth foster _placement_ (he'd stopped seeing them as homes years before), Ian had hopped a coach across country, with the current foster family's savings, and made the long, long journey to New York City. He had adapted quickly to living rough…hard ground, thin sleeping bag, newspaper for insulation and he was set for the night. After the last foster placement, it was defiantly a step up in his book. Not that anyone had ever asked him his opinion. Not his social worker and definitely not his last foster family. No, the streets and a cardboard box had been more preferable than his_ last_ foster home.

Ian shivered at the memory. Forget the cardboard box, back then he would have preferred sleeping naked in the artic than ever go back _there_. He was finally alone for the first time in his life; able to make his own rules and free to live without fear of when the next beating was coming. He'd had nothing left in the world but the clothes on his back, the sleeping bag in his hand and his pride and in that moment his pride had been _everything_.

It was ironic Ian thought now as he departed the plane and followed the other passengers along the plane's long terminal to the giant LAX arrivals lounge. In New York City he had wanted for nothing and no one. Even years later after being adopted by Kevin Edgerton and enlisting in the army, that sense of solitary freedom was the principle by which he had defined his entire life and yet now? Now he wasn't so sure. Solitary was starting to look a little lonely and as he entered the overly packed lounge he couldn't help but smile as his eyes picked out a laughing Don and Elliott across the crowded room.

The change had happened slowly, over six years in fact, but Ian was starting to appreciate the idea of having a team. Forgetting whatever there was or wasn't between Charlie and him for a moment, Ian knew that despite everything he had just arrived home. He had family, even if it was a fake one he had sort of hashed together over the years. He was lucky to have people in his life and the pain in his left shoulder reminded him that he was just plain lucky to be alive in general.

It was his third bullet injury and Ian was determined to make it his last… He had dabbled with the thought of retiring but Don's proposal that Ian head the team was starting to look very enticing, especially as Charlie had asked him to stay. He knew he had stuff to sort out with Charlie but regardless of what would or wouldn't happen between them, Ian knew that he wasn't going to let this opportunity pass him by. What had worked for him before wasn't working now. He wanted an apartment, not just an insulated sleeping bag or a waterproof tent. Besides he wasn't exactly the rest and take up a hobby type as Charlie had pointed out little over a week ago.

"Don…Elliott," Ian smiled once he had finally made his way through the billowing crowd.

"What the _hell_ happened to you?" Don asked no longer smiling as he saw the large bruise on Ian's cheek for the first time. Or perhaps it was the fat lip, stitches in his right eyebrow and the three bruised ribs that had Don concerned… _No_, Ian thought sardonically, _Don couldn't see the ribs_. Unless they were obvious from the way he walked with the slightest of limps as his left arm horizontally gripped his right side as if placed in a sling…

He was ashamed to admit that the usually calm and rational Ian Edgerton had lost his cool and gotten into a brawl in a bar a couple nights back. The trial had sanctioned the actions of him and his team but Ian wasn't so sure they should have and apparently neither was the group of soldiers that he had 'tussled' with later that night in the soldiers mess. A lot had happened in Afghanistan, most of which he wasn't proud of and would rather forget. With that in mind, Ian had decided on the plane that his recent tour in Afghanistan, the subsequent trial and his little rendezvous at the pub were now off limits, to himself but especially to the now slightly scowling Don and Elliott.

"_Ian?"_ Don asked sourly, the disappointment plain to see.

"It was nothing," Ian told Don dismissively as he mentally stopped his treacherous mind from taking him back there. The FBI appointed therapist would frown disapprovingly and tell him he wasn't aiding his recovery by blocking the memories or his friends out. Especially as they were only trying to help…but Ian was a big boy, he could handle it despite what any of them thought. It wasn't the first bullet he had taken in the line of duty. It was perhaps the most life threatening but Ian had survived, he was past the worst of it now and no matter what the CIA threatened him with next time…he wasn't going back. Ever. Again. He was done and 'talking' about it wouldn't change his mind. "What about you though?" Ian hastily changed the subject; a fact not missed by the ever observant Elliott, as in turn Ian noticed Don's crutches and booted foot for the first time.

"_It was nothing,"_ Don joked as he took Ian's proffered hand and pulled him in for an awkward hug, the crutches getting in the way limited his movement. Regardless Don was determined to greet his old friend properly, besides Don couldn't stay angry at Ian for long. Don knew he was a private person and if Ian wasn't ready, Don could respect that. It was one of the many things Ian respected about Don. "I'm glad you're back though," Don told him gravely, all previous joking put aside as Don got straight to business. It was one of the other many qualities that Ian loved about Don and that made him such a fine SAIC, in his humble opinion at least. "A lot's happened whilst you were in DC."

"I think you'd better fill me in," Ian grunted as Elliott gave his left shoulder a friendly punch hello. It amused Ian that Elliott was still slightly awkward around him and grinning mischievously, pulled Elliott in for his own awkward hug before following the seemingly inseparable pair out of the airport and to Elliott's shiny Chevy Impala.

"I have to admit," Don smiled sadly out of the passenger side window once they were all comfortably seated in Elliott's car and cruising down the highway towards Downtown LA and the FBI offices. "I don't really know where to begin."

"Why not start at the beginning from when I left and work forwards?" Ian suggested from the back. He was relieved to be getting back to the investigation; there had just been way too much downtime in DC for his liking. He had itchy fingers and it bothered him that they still hadn't made an arrest.

"Ok," Don sighed, getting his thoughts together in his mind before starting. "About a week ago Colby came into my office, pulling the witness Tessa Mawby in tow. It was right after Elliott and I had returned to the offices after stopping by Judge Tompkins wake…"

***7 Days Ago***

"Don!" Colby exclaimed excitedly as he charged past Don's tired looking secretary and into his office, pulling Tessa along behind him. "We've finally got it!"

"Got what?" Don asked annoyed as he quickly shut the file in front of him. He didn't want Colby to know that he was reviewing the Judge's case one last time before filing it.

"Our first break," Colby beamed as he put both hands on Tessa's shoulders and gently pushed her across the room towards Don's large desk.

"Oh?" Don asked interestedly, his whole body suddenly on full alert as he gave the scared looking witness his full attention.

"It was the logo," Colby prompted from behind, his hands still on her shoulders as his thumbs stroked small circles encouragingly on her back.

"It belongs to the local council's garden service," She said barely above a whisper as Colby nodded enthusiastically over her shoulder. "You know, 'Landscaping Your Landscape'" She added when Don didn't reply.

"The local council's garden service…" Don finally repeated as the silence began to grow uncomfortable. "Shit."

"What's wrong?" Colby asked confused, his happiness beginning to ebb away as he stepped out from behind Tessa. "It's our first solid lead!"

"It's also a PR nightmare!" Don stood up frustrated. He could appreciate where Colby was coming from. The flower found at all of the crime scenes indicated that the killer was familiar with flowers, with both prior knowledge and access, but the local council? The FBI could hardly go to LA's local council offices and accuse them of hiring or harbouring a serial killer. Especially with no real evidence!

"Screw how it looks!" Colby sighed as he flopped down in one of the two soft leather chairs that Don had put in front of his desk for visitors.

"Col? Come on. We have nothing! No we have worse than nothing and we'd end up doing more harm than good if we storm their offices. It would be like searching for a needle in a haystack when we have no proof it's the right haystack!" Don replied kindly, as he sat back down in his swivel chair and gestured for Tessa to take a seat as well.

"He works there I know he does! Okay maybe it's not the guy from the sketch that Ian and I got but it's as good as. If we don't pursue this we'll be making a _huge_ mistake." Colby crossed his arms defiantly.

"I didn't say we wouldn't pursue it," Don smiled mischievously. "I just said we'd have to be _smart_ about it. Besides not wanting to accuse this city's council we also don't want to tip our hand too soon. Lily's counting on us."

"What do we do then?" Colby asked shaking his head frustrated.

"I know a guy who can get us the personnel records," Don looked sideways at Tessa who looked slightly like a rabbit caught in the headlights. "You know…off the books…" Don coughed to cover the awkward silence that followed.

"Why can't you just ask the council for them?" Tessa asked confused. "Surely they would hand them over?"

"Besides not wanting to tip the killer that we're on to him, all we have at the moment is insubstantial evidence. In truth we don't have a lick of proper evidence. At least any that would be admissible in court." Colby told her gently.

"They would also have their lawyers so far up my ass suing this department that all it will achieve is wasting our time and what little time Lily Blake has left." Don ran his fingers through his dark hair annoyed at the latest obstacle to get in-between him and his target.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Colby asked Don as their eyes met across his large desk.

"I'm going to need a maths geek," Don replied as he picked up his desk phone and started dialling.

"Before you call the cavalry," Liz interrupted Don and Colby's impromptu meeting as the line clicked over to Charlie's voicemail. "I've got something you'd like to see."

"…voicemail full…" a stilted computerised female voice informed an exasperated Don who sighed and hung up in defeat. Charlie was letting all of his calls go to voicemail. He was also in hiding from their Dad who was still giving his youngest son the stink eye for lying the previous day. He'd been back in America for what three days and Don still hadn't even been able to get through to see him. Whatever was going on between Amita and him, and Don had is suspicions, Charlie was acting like a child about it. Avoiding people's calls, dodging his concerned older brother, lying to and brushing off their worried father? It just wasn't like Charlie at all, which had Don worried and that bit more determined to get to the truth. He wanted the whole sorry affair sorted. He had a killer to catch and he needed Charlie's head in the game.

"What have you found?" Don asked Liz who had entered the room fully and was giving Tessa her own version of the stink eye. It might have had something to do with the protective arm that Colby was leaning on the back of Tessa's chair. His right hand rubbing her arm comfortingly as she shook a little from the news that they had a lead on a high profile sociopath and yet could do nothing about it…well legitimately anyway…

Either way, Colby seemed to be oblivious of Liz's obvious jealousy. She and Colby had briefly tried dating but a month ago Colby had ended it. No explanation to Don or anyone else. Not that Don was one to pry, he just couldn't help but notice the tension between the pair as Liz fought to regain a little dignity.

"I think I've found case zero," She smiled with satisfaction, like a cat that had gotten the cream.

"What makes you so sure?" Don asked excitedly as she passed the file over. "What is this?" He asked confused as he took in the contents, three quarters of which had been blacked out.

"The case is about a little girl aged five who matches our victims' descriptions to the letter. She was, get this, 'suffocated' by her older brother, aged twelve, as the 'nanny' made out with their father downstairs." Liz smiled with triumph.

"How did he do it?" Colby asked as he took his turn to look at the heavily redacted file.

"With a pillow but he could have escalated to using his hands," Liz replied as she ran her hand through her long hair and flicked it to one side, a move completely missed by Colby who was reading what hadn't fallen prey to the black pen intently.

"It says here that the girl's body was found the next morning by the nanny when she went to wake the children up for breakfast. Apparently she found a white flower clutched in the girl's hands?" Colby read aloud excitedly.

"The coroner found multiple lacerations on the child plus signs of sexual assault. The nanny was a later found guilty for child abuse whilst the brother went to a psychiatric prison for young offenders. The doctor that had been called in to assess the child's mental stability claimed that the brother truly believed that he was _saving her_." Liz replied as she took the file back from Colby and read aloud: "It is my recommendation that the boy be housed in our facility where he can receive the care he deserves that was evidently so lacking in his familial setting."

"So the parents knew?" Don asked amazed.

"The mother didn't or at least she claimed that she didn't. She was a high profile Politian in the previous mayor's office. She was rarely home. As for the father…well it says here that the nanny gave him up for a reduced sentence. He went to jail for sexual assault on a minor whilst she went to jail for the physical abuse…I'm sorry should she be hearing this?" Liz asked meanly as she jerked a frustrated thumb at Tessa.

"No," Don sighed sadly. "Thank you for coming and letting me know about the garden service, that and Liz's find has me…optimistic."

"Sure…no problem!" Tessa nodded vigorously as she rushed to get up and back away towards the nearest exit.

"Wait," Colby shouted suddenly as she opened the door in a rush to put distance between herself and the scowling Liz. "Can I buy you a coffee sometime…you know…as a thank you?"

"I work in a coffee shop…" She smiled prettily. "Perhaps you could…buy me dinner…instead," She told him a little braver than she actually felt.

"I'll call you later to set it up," Colby smiled back to Liz's obvious dismay and anger.

"Great," Tessa smiled once more before leaving the room.

"So the file," Don told his agents as he got up and paced behind his desk. "Am I right in assuming the kid's name has been removed?"

"Unfortunately the case was sealed to protect the kid's identity. All we have here is the bare bones of the investigation and the odd line of witness testimony. He was given a whole new identity and moved out of LA after the trial…" Liz replied, the wind having been completely knocked out of her sails by this point. They potentially had case zero but could do nothing with it whilst the case was sealed. "I only got as much as I did because I visited the cop that investigated it all those years ago. Not that he would give me a name. Not that I blame him, he's a year away from retirement, doesn't want to jeopardise his pension."

"Then we need to get it unsealed," Don replied pulling his mobile phone out of his suit pocket. "I'll get my source on the list and Robin on the file. We'll need a judge's permission to reopen such an important case. It won't be easy or done immediately but…well it's more than we've had so far."

"I'll let the others know," Colby stood up quickly and left the room with Liz hot on his heels, both carried by the knowledge that they were closing the distance on their killer…

***Present Day***

"So you think the two cases are related?" Ian asked eagerly. Colby and Liz had been right this was definitely a solid lead.

"Well, that is the assumption for the time being," Elliott replied from the driver's seat.

"I asked Robin to try getting it unsealed," Don told Ian, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "She's 'working' on it."

"But until we know the kid's identity or whatever he's calling himself now…we have nothing." Elliott voiced the thoughts of everyone in the car.

"Worse, until we have that name we can't cross reference it with the council's personnel file," Don sighed frustrated. "Do you know how many gardeners this city employs? And how many of those worked at our crime scenes?

"You mean you got the file?" Ian asked impressed.

"Yes," Don replied sadly. "And it wasn't easy…"

***5 Days Ago***

"I got your call," Robin practically purred, the corners of her soft lips twisting up sexily as she stepped inside Don's office and shut the door behind her. "A booty call at work?" She asked huskily. "Naughty."

"Rob," Don tried to smile at his fiancée but he couldn't quite make it reach his eyes.

"What's wrong?" She asked, rushing to his side.

"I need to ask a favour but…I don't know how to ask it," Don looked up at her frowning, yet still beautiful, face.

"Easy, whatever you need I'll do it," She smiled lovingly as she dropped herself gently into his waiting lap and draped her arms around his neck.

"You might want to hear what it is first," He sighed as his arms instinctively wrapped themselves around her waist.

"Ok," She laughed. "Ask."

"Ok...Rob I need you to-"

"-done," She interrupted, as her hand crawled up the back of his neck and into his messy hair.

"_Robin,_" He replied stressed.

"Ok, fine. What's up hun?"

"I…I need you to pull strings and get a judge to unseal this file," Don asked quickly before she could interrupt again.

"We talked about this," She sighed, getting up and shifting to his desk so she could face him properly. "Cases like this are sealed for a reason. That boy did something bad in extreme circumstances. If you go to this man's house and drag the whole case up again and he's _not_ the LA Child Snatcher…you'd be opening this entire department up to litigation. Don you would lose your job, hell I could lose my job as well!"

"I know, ok but think about it the other way," He replied, as he moved over to his signed baseball collection. "What if he _is_ the killer and the only way to catch him is by unsealing that file. It's been done before, why not now?"

"Because…Don I'm only going to say this once and I mean it with love. You. Have. _No_. Evidence. There wouldn't be a problem if you did." It was too late though, Robin could slowly see her fiancé closing off to her. "Maybe down the line when you have something more substantial…"

"Lily Blake doesn't have time for something more substantial!" Don threw back angrily. "And neither did Connie. I thought you would have felt as strongly about this as I do!"

"Of course I do!" Robin cried, crossing her arms in defiance. Her back rigid as she watched her fiancé in disbelief as he in turn looked back at her with accusation in his hurt and tired eyes. "Fine," She already regretted saying it the moment it left her lips. "I'll go to a few judges but I'm telling you now, this is a waste of your time as well as mine. So don't blame me when this all blows up in our faces!"

"_Rob,_" Don sighed sadly but Robin had already stormed from the office. "Damn," He told the empty room before grabbing his long black coat to go meet his 'source' in the mayor's office.

***Break***

"This had better be important," The smartly dressed business man told Don as he squeezed into the tiny booth opposite, their legs bumping under the table.

"You know I wouldn't call if it wasn't," Don replied, his voice rough and gravelly from the thick haze that clouded the small diner and its 'clientele' in smoke. No one visited this particular greasy spoon for the food. It was all business under the shop's harsh florescent lighting.

"I wish you hadn't called at all," Doug Wilkes, the Mayor of LA and Don's second oldest friend, confessed as he grimaced from the overwhelming smell of grease and fat assaulting his sensitive nose. "And you could have done us both a favour and picked a better neighbourhood!"

"You really wanted to risk the chance someone might recognise you or over hear us?" Don asked calmly, as Doug made an effort to clean the table with his handkerchief.

"Why do I not like the sound of that?" Doug sighed, giving up on the table as the waitress approached. Don would say she was early fifties but it was hard to see through the smoke. The years hadn't been kind to her that was for sure.

"What can I get you?" She rasped, her voice barely audible above the scrawl of the rusty jukebox playing/killing Frank Sinatra's 'My Way' in the corner.

"I'll have a back coffee two sugars please," Don smiled back pleasantly as she wrote the order on a tiny note pad she had produced from her grimy apron.

"What about you handsome?" She asked Doug who balked at the woman's toothy grin.

"Nothing…thanks," Doug shivered with disgust as the waitress shrugged and sauntered away. "How can you drink here?"

"You don't," Don sighed impatiently. "But she would have turfed us out if I hadn't. Besides I used to chase fugitives for a living. I've had worse coffee in worse places than this before."

"Rather you than me!" Doug frowned as he straightened his tie. He was still wearing one of his expensive Armani suits like the kind that Brian wears, minus the hat. It irritated Don that Doug hadn't made the slightest effort not to stick out like a sore thumb. _Oh well,_ he thought tragically. _At least they will think he's just some rich fellow trying to score or in debt._

"So…" Don paused as the waitress brought his coffee over. "…I need you to get me the garden service's personnel file...off the record."

"What!" Doug asked shocked, he had been momentarily distracted by a prostitute across the road blowing kisses at him through the dirty window but Don now had his full attention. "_I can't do that I'm the Mayor for Christ's sake!"_

"Look Doug," Don told him forcefully. "I'm chasing a serial killer here, a _child_ serial killer. It's in your best interests to help me before people start asking what the _Mayor _is doing about it! Trust me you need the points, your little speech about gay marriage really hurt you in the polls and what's with this whole soldier of the people your PR department have you spinning? You never even went to Afghanistan!"

"Look, I just read the speeches ok I don't write them and thanks but I really don't need the politics lesson from you right now because what you are asking is ridiculous. I can't just walk into the garden service offices and take their files, especially without anyone _noticing_. I'm the _MAYOR_ FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!" Doug was shaking his head violently now.

"Say you're reviewing the service and its personnel for potential cuts, I don't care how you do it; just keep you bloody voice down alright!" Don put his hand out to stop Doug as he tried to escape the tiny booth whilst casting a quick glance at the waitress but she was busy changing the track on the jukebox to Blue Oyster Cult's 'I'm Burning for You'.

"DON BE REASONALBE!" Doug shouted again, this time getting the attention of the waitress who looked over in amusement before heading to the kitchen.

"Doug…_please_…I wouldn't ask but…look I'm going to lay it out there for you. I have a guy that could get them…easy, but I need _you_ to get them so that they are admissible in court. If the Mayor hands them over then it doesn't matter that I didn't pursue a warrant or notify the service directly because and this is the important part, _you're_ their boss and as such have the right to give me that information without the need for a warrant… It's important that we don't tip the killer off that we're on to him…you see Doug it's the only way that I can save Lily."

"Who's Lily?" Doug stopped struggling altogether now. Don and Doug had gone to college together. He owed Don for helping to keep certain skeletons in the closet, skeletons that could have cost him the election.

"She's the LA Child Snatcher's latest victim and a dead girl if we don't find her soon," Don slumped back against the cracked vinyl of the booth's seats.

"Shit," Doug groaned in pain at his friends defeated posture.

"Look this guy…he's murdered three girls already…"

"Stop ok…just stop!" Doug slumped back as well. "You had me at please. The great Don Eppes actually saying please…I wish I had my Dictaphone handy."

"Dick," Don smiled with relief.

"I'll have my man currier them over to your office later today," Doug said softly as he got up from the booth and headed to the diner's open door. "Oh and Don…" Doug looked back over his shoulder, "We're quits now. Don't expect me to do anything like this again. You risked your career for me once…so I'll so the same for you now. _This once_."

"Thank you," Don replied toasting Doug with his coffee before taking a sip that if he wasn't mistaken had lumps in…

It was hard to savour the victory; however, as the memory of Robin storming out of his office came racing back. Hadn't she said the same thing about Don putting their careers on the line…? Either way it didn't matter. He had gotten what he had wanted today regardless of Robin or Doug's feelings or the effect that this recent line of enquiry could jeopardise their careers. It didn't matter because Don had made a promise to himself that he was going to catch the son of a bitch killing little girls on his turf. The job could be a lonely one but Don was determined to get it done. At any cost…

***Present Day***

"Doug?" Ian asked disbelievingly. "You went to Doug?"

"What's so '_oh my God' _about this guy?" Elliott asked curiously, Colby had reacted the same as Ian but Don had never told him why and just now Elliott could help but notice that Don had left out the part about Robin getting angry and storming out of the office…as far as Ian was concerned Robin had agreed and got straight too it. _Why had Don lied?_ He wondered.

"Doug Wilkes is the Mayor," Ian replied. "How don't you know this?"

"I hate politics and politicians," Elliott shivered. "They are worse than lawyers…no offence."

"None taken," Don smiled briefly as Elliott pulled into the FBI car park and started the laborious task of finding a parking spot.

"So you got the file…then what?" Ian asked a few minutes later, he wasn't easily distracted or for long.

"Then I went to Charlie," Don rubbed at his sore leg. He really needed to take something for it but Don hated being reliant upon anything or anyone.

"How is Charlie?" Ian asked casually.

"That…that is a good question," Don sighed. "And an even longer story…"

"We have time though right?" Ian asked a little desperately as Elliott continued to drive at a slow crawl, looking for any available space that wasn't disabled. "I'm curious what he decided…you know…with the case…" Ian coughed to cover the stumble, "What voodoo did he come up with this time?"

Ian's level of scepticism despite Charlie having proven his worth on more than one occasion, in Ian's presence, was legendary. So was his unwavering belief in Charlie and his 'voodoo'. Ian had once trusted his life to Charlie when he was sent to prison wrongly for the death of a CI. It was a frame job and thankfully for Ian, Charlie had helped prove that it was a crooked marshal that had actually committed the crime.

"Well you know Charlie," Don smiled ruefully in return. "I gave him the problem and he gave me the solution…"

***3 Days Ago***

"What time is it?" Charlie asked tiredly as he stumbled into Don and Robin's cosy kitchen. The last embers of a fire were slowly dying in the large fireplace at the centre of the room as a bare chested Don sat at the large dining table. He had a severe case of bed head and a five o'clock shadow.

"Early," Don grumbled as he took a long pull from a bottle of beer in his right hand as he looked over a large stack of files that were littering the table in front of him.

"You working? At this hour?" Charlie asked concerned. Their dad had said that Don had been spreading himself thin lately but Charlie had not realised how bad it was. He should have guessed though, Don was a workaholic and Charlie clearly wasn't the genius everyone thought he was…well not at three a.m. at least.

"I've been pretty busy on the serial killer case," Don replied only half listening to his brother.

"But surely the others have it covered?" Charlie pressed the subject. "Isn't your job meant to be more of a supervisory role?"

"Not on this one it isn't," Don sighed closing the arson case that he had been pretending to read only moments before. "What about you? How are you holding up?"

"I'll live," Charlie grimaced at the thought of his wife who had arrived back from England the day before. Charlie had just finished baring his soul to his brother about Amita cheating and his doubts over whether he should have gotten married in the first place, was just about to come clean and confess his confused feelings towards Ian, when he had been interrupted by the entrance of a tired and jet lagged Amita.

To say their reunion was a strained one was an understatement. The truth was that they'd had a full blown argument resulting in Charlie leaving to stay with Don and Robin for the time being. Robin had been nice about it all but it was obvious to Charlie that Robin and Don were in the middle of their own fight at the moment. He didn't want to impose but at the same time he wanted to be at home with his wife a lot less, so he offered to cook and clean as a thank you for taking him in and to clear his guilty conscience. Neither Don nor Robin cooked and Charlie doubted that their oven had ever even been used.

"Here," Don slid a spare beer across the table to Charlie. "It helps," Don said by way of explanation as shrugging his shoulders, Charlie opened the cap with a bottle opener on his pen knife before taking two long pulls. The rough liquid burned the back of his throat and warmed his stomach. Don was right…it did help.

"So this serial killer case," Charlie said as a way to change the subject.

"This case," Don nodded, more than happy to change the subject from relationships to work. He was good at work, not so much at relationships. "You come up with anything we can use?"

"I think so. Do you remember that case we solved a few years back where there was a serial rapist turned killer? And your predictive analysis technique wasn't working so I took the data and came up with an equation to identify the killer's point of origin by working back from the crime scene locations…"

"Yeah, sure you used a sprinkler as an example. Hey wasn't that our first case together?" Don smiled at the memory. Six years later, they'd come a long way together since that case. Sure their lives were more complicated but their relationship was stronger. Six years ago they had no common ground and definitely wouldn't have been enjoying a beer together at three a.m. in the morning…

"Right well, I think I can apply the same principle here." Charlie told Don excitedly, he was definitely a nerd because just talking maths was getting him excited. He'd forgotten in the past three months what a thrill it was to work on cases with Don for the FBI. "The point of the sprinkler analogy was that it is practically impossible, even with the use of math, to predict where the next droplet of water will fall. However, by taking the drops and analysing the pattern I could formulate the point of origin of the sprinkler. It's the same principle for the LA Child Snatcher. By taking what we know of the crime scenes, the burial sites and the possible shop locations, I can create hot zones based on the likely hood that your killer lives there. Add the personnel files you…you procured and I should be able to create a short list based on who worked all the scenes and who over laps with the hot zone."

"Charlie, that sounds…great, really. We need a break so anything you can get together will be a life saver," Don rubbed his face in relief. Robin was having problems getting a judge to unseal the case zero file, which Don was convinced it was despite the continued lack of evidence. Besides, Robin was starting to give him the 'I told you so' look, which besides not being pleasant to be on the receiving end of, it was also accompanied by the 'I can't believe you did this to me' look followed by the cold shoulder and silent treatment. He was sad that they were fighting but he was also annoyed at getting his hopes up. He had every faith in Robin's ability, despite what she had said, he had truly believed she could get a judge to reopen the case…but he'd been wrong and she hadn't.

"I'll let you know when I've worked the maths out," Charlie smiled reassuringly, Don looked tired and Charlie was happy to lighten his brother's load even if it was only a little of the weight…

***Present Day***

"So Charlie managed to narrow it down?" Ian asked excitedly as he helped Don out of the car.

"That's where we're headed right now," Elliott told Ian as he handed Don his crutches before leading the way to the elevator that would take them up to their floor. "Charlie came back with the results but we figured you'd want to be there so we arranged the meeting to co-inside with your arrival."

"You mean Charlie is up there now?" Ian asked hesitantly. It wasn't like he didn't want to see Charlie, he really did. He was just worried that…well quite frankly that he looked like hell because he sure felt like it and he knew that it wasn't the 'typical' thing that he would worry about but there was something about Charlie that left him feeling insecure. Ian was sure his shrink would know the answer, not that he had or ever would talk about his and Charlie's relationship or lack of one with her!

"Yeah," Don replied unaware of the conflict that his answer inflicted in Ian. "He has a colour coded map and everything!"

"Great," Ian sighed as he entered the small elevator and got a good look at his appearance for the first time that day. He was dressed casually in combat trousers and a dark t-shirt that was a little tight. The ridges of the bandages around his ribs were slightly noticeable and the bruise on his cheek had started to fade into an awful yellow and green lump. He didn't even want to think about how bad his hair looked. Uncombed as it was, Ian looked like he had just woken up when in fact it was the complete opposite; in fact he hadn't had a good night sleep since Afghanistan…not that he wanted anyone to know, not even his shrink who would only read too much into it.

Manning up, and with no other option, Ian waited patiently as the elevator doors closed and a computerised female voice announced the beginning of their long journey to the nineteenth floor.

***19 Floors Later***

Looking around the empty bullpen, Charlie took a deep breath as he mentally tried to prepare himself for the briefing he was about to give. Having told Don three months ago that he was retiring from his work with the FBI, Charlie had known how important this case must have been without even opening the file just by the fact that Don had completely disregarded this and come to him anyway. Not that Charlie would ever have said no, he was just worried that Don believed that Charlie was their last chance to catch this guy. It was a lot of pressure and Charlie had never exactly excelled under pressure.

On top of that was the added stress of knowing that Don was on his way here with Ian in tow. The past week had gone by agonizingly slowly and Charlie was worried about where he and Ian stood with one another, they hadn't spoken at all since that night in Ian's hallway. What would have happened if the power hadn't gone out? Was what Charlie wanted to know, not that he had the guts to ask.

"Nervous?" Colby asked from the bullpen's open doorway. He was smiling, but it was a little forced.

"Always," Charlie replied reluctantly. He knew he could always be straight with Colby because Colby got it, got him.

"That's very…reassuring…" Colby winked as the rest of the team began to file past him.

"I try," Charlie grinned; Colby had this way of making you relax in his company. He was very easy going and great to have around in a crisis.

"You got props?" Liz asked as she entered the room and hugged Charlie hello. "We've missed you around here." She whispered softly in his ear.

"Yes," He smiled in return and whispered back, "I've missed you too."

"What about me?" Nikki asked indignantly but Charlie had stopped listening because Detective Hayes, Don and Ian had just entered the room followed closely by the AD. Just the sight of Ian made Charlie freeze with a mixture of different and difficult emotions. The first of which was concern.

Ian had a massive bruise on his cheekbone and a smaller one on his jaw, but this was less noticeable by the day's growth of stubble that was currently growing there. He also had a white strip of tape covering a cut through his right eyebrow and if Charlie wasn't mistaken he could see the ridges of a bandage wrapped tightly around his chest. Charlie's heart leapt to his throat as he watched Ian regard him curiously from the seat he took at the back of the room.

It was hard for Charlie to concentrate on what Nick was saying to him because despite the worry, Charlie was also fighting other, more confusing, feelings. Ian looked like a rebel without a cause and Charlie couldn't help but notice that the 'rugged look' looked good on him. From his bed head to his slightly bulging biceps, Ian looked better than good...

"Professor?" Nick asked concerned as his voice broke through Charlie's less than professional thoughts. Seeing he finally had Charlie's full attention he added, "What do you have for us?"

"Right," Charlie smiled nervously as he closed the door to the bullpen and flicked the front lights off so that the interactive board was easier to see. "By using the crime locations, the burial sites and the potential shops that the killer could have bought the outfits from; I calculated the potential area in which the killer resides."

"You can really do that?" Detective Brian Hamilton scoffed from the second row, resulting in an elbow to the ribs by Detective Elliott Hayes.

"Yes," Charlie replied patiently, he was used to this reaction after six long years of working for the FBI as a special consultant. "By using similar techniques employed by physicists when detecting the presence of black holes."

"Black holes…" Brian replied sceptically, whilst throwing the room a quick 'are you buying this' look.

"Yes," Charlie repeated slowly. "You see the only way to detect black holes is by the effect they have on the things around them. To catch the killer we must employ a similar method of looking at his effect on the things around him. For example, how he picks the places to kidnap the children and then where to bury the bodies. These places appear to have been selected at random, however, to pick the locations he has to take into consideration their proximity to where he lives. By making them _appear_ random it's harder to draw conclusions about where he lives. "

"Right…" Brian nodded but it was clear that Charlie wasn't making sense to him.

"Ok…demonstration time," Charlie clapped his hands together before gesturing for everyone to stand. "I want all of you to distribute yourselves randomly about the room."

"Really, you're reusing the 'distribute yourselves randomly' experiment again?" Don raised an eyebrow at his brother, but Charlie was so engrossed he miss Don's sarcasm.

"You and I are the only ones that were here the last time," Charlie frowned at his brother sternly as he would an errant pupil.

"Alright," Don sighed loudly as he gathered up his crutches and moved to the far corner of the room.

"Anyone else following this?" Brian scratched his head thoughtfully, unsure where to stand.

"Just do as he says and wait for the punch line," Colby told everyone else who looked a little lost as he stationed himself by the door.

"So what now?" Elliott asked as Charlie smiled at them all from the front of the room.

"Now you look at what you've done," Charlie replied cryptically.

"We've distributed ourselves evenly," Ian grinned at Charlie causing his pulse to leap.

"That's right," Charlie replied, coughing to cover the colour that was spreading to his cheeks. "You all spaced yourselves evenly when true randomness includes clusters. You're all _too_ even. It is in fact pretty difficult to consciously pick a random sequence. Your target tried but like you, he wound up with roughly even spreading."

"Add that to the personnel file and what?" Colby asked clearly impressed.

"The equation revealed the probability that each area has of being the suspect's base. Yellow is the hot zone. I cross referenced this with the personnel file and managed to reduce the list to twenty suspects," Charlie replied as everyone sat down again, experiment over.

"Twenty?" Don repeated disappointedly.

"That's right. However-"

"God I love '_however'_," Colby smiled as he enjoyed the show.

"Yes…" Charlie continued embarrassed. "However, I then took into account that the suspect must have knowledge of flowers and you know all the other criteria that Will specified in his profile and managed to cut the list down to ten possible names. Gentlemen, and ladies, one of these men is your killer," Charlie replied as he used the computers pointer to flick up a list of ten possible suspects.

"Charlie that's great!" Don smiled, his head shaking in disbelief at how easy Charlie could make it all seem. "I want every available man…and woman-" he added when Liz coughed loudly from her seat at the back. "-Watching these men. We're not going to be able to get a warrant on the evidence we have, so you'll need to gather their DNA and prints from discarded objects. Meanwhile get the lab to go over the binoculars again, I don't care if they are partial's I want prints to compare to the ones we gather. You heard Nick before; this is a number one priority case. So drop whatever you're doing and get hunting! I want to know everything about these men from what they eat for breakfast to what position they prefer during…well you get the picture. No stone is to be left unturned!"

"Yes boss," The room chorused as the freshly charged agents stormed out of the bullpen to start divvying up the rolls and to get eyes on their suspects as soon as possible. Only Ian lagged behind as Charlie gathered his papers to leave.

"Shit," Charlie said startled as he turned around to see Ian still sitting there, one arm clutching at his side as the other tapped on the foot he had loosely crossed over his leg. "I didn't see you there," Charlie carried on when Ian said nothing in reply, his eyes searching Charlie's for something.

"That's some good work," Ian finally said as the silence grew uncomfortable and Charlie began to squirm. Ian's gaze had him rooted to the spot. There was something about him, an intensity to the way he slowly got up and walked, no strode across the room until their bodies where inches apart.

"Thanks…" Charlie said uncertainly as Ian took another step closer.

"Charlie…" Ian whispered softly as he reached out with his right arm and cupped his face with his large hand.

"Yes…?" He asked automatically, but Ian's mouth was already on his. Shocked by the sudden kiss, Charlie stood there unsure what to do next.

"Sorry," Ian pulled back embarrassed when it was clear that Charlie wasn't participating.

"Don't be," Charlie smiled suddenly as he pulled Ian in for another kiss. Gentle at first, then Ian turned up the heat until both of them stepped back slightly out of breath and more than a little dazed.

"Shit," Ian smiled at Charlie. Who knew the youngest Eppes was such a good kisser? Well, Ian now did that was for sure.

"Yeah," Charlie laughed back. "What the hell was that?"

"That was me chucking my hat in the ring," Ian replied suddenly very serious.

"Erm…ok…?" Charlie replied when Ian didn't say anymore.

"Charlie, I'm accepting Don's offer to head the team which means I'm moving to LA. That…that was my way of saying that I'm going to fight for you," Ian told Charlie who still looked a little dazed from the kiss. "I know that you've got a lot to think about and a lot to work out with Amita but…" Ian tried to explain. "…But I'm not giving up just yet."

"Ian…" Charlie replied unsure what to say next. Ian was right he needed to sort thing out with Amita. He needed to choose once and for all…

"Ian!" Don shouted urgently as he burst suddenly into the room, completely oblivious of the way the pair sprang apart guiltily.

"Yes?" Ian asked, voice rough.

"LAPD just reported the discovery of a little girl's body…" Don looked down and away dejectedly.

"Lily Blake?" Ian asked when Don didn't continue.

"They don't know…they are waiting for a positive ID from the parents," Don replied, looking up suddenly and narrowing his eyes on his brother who was slowly turning a bright shade of crimson. "What's up with you?"

"Nothing," Charlie replied after a moment his voice still shaking from the kiss, though he hoped it came across as concern for the dead girl.

"Fair enough," Don shook his head tiredly. "You coming Ian?" He asked, jerking his thumb over his shoulder to stress his point.

"It's a date," Ian replied sadly as he left the bullpen, looking briefly over his shoulder at Charlie, before joining Don and Elliott in the corridor. "You know what Eppes? You always take me to nicest places," Ian smiled grimly, opting for gallows humour as the trio made their way to Elliott's car as Don still couldn't drive and Ian didn't have his.

"I try," Don smiled gratefully as Ian pressed the button to call the elevator. All he kept thinking was: _They couldn't identify the body…_


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9:**

Kneeling beside the dead girl's body, half in and half out of her small grave, Dr Claudia Gomez was surprised to realise that she wasn't as 'desensitised' to the job as she had previously thought. It was her third call of the night. The first had been a rotten body found hidden behind a bricked up chimney and the second a gang banger who'd overdosed sampling his own product-there was irony for you.

If she was honest with herself though, Claudia knew why it was that the child cases got to her more than any of the others and it was not some pansy ass reason like the fact that she was a woman. No for her it was a lot more personal… Not many people knew that she had gotten pregnant in medical school and even fewer people knew that her beautiful baby girl, Lydia, had died from SIDS, sudden infant death syndrome, a month before her first birthday. It was the reason Claudia had chosen pathology over neurology in the first place. She just hadn't been able accept that SIDS couldn't be predicted by medical history or that the cause could be left unexplained, despite a thorough autopsy by Dr Ridenhour who had kindly let her watch.

It was funny but sometimes knee deep in the victim's grave, Claudia couldn't help but reflect upon the years that proceeded. That her parents and friends hadn't _understood_ her desire to become a coroner was a massive understatement. Having grown up in the worst and most poverty stricken neighbourhood in LA, to throw away such a prestigious career had been well…crazy…. It had just been something she had _needed_ to do. Something Dr Ridenhour had understood the night that a stone faced Claudia had burst into the examination room demanding to be present at the autopsy of her child and for every rotation after that Claudia then signed up for in the morgue.

She often found that the expectation when you're a coroner is the belief that there must be something really wrong with you, that you have to be like any of the many morticians portrayed on TV cop shows. Basically quirky or just plain odd, changed/damaged by the constant horde of violence bestowed upon humanity that is laid out on the table to be examined day in day out. When in truth even before the death of her child Claudia had never had a problem with dead bodies, death was a natural part of life and she understood this more than anyone because where she grew up you either died or you went to prison. There weren't many other options, she had just been fortunate enough to get a scholarship at the time.

So whether it was a fat banker who had died from a heart attack or a body that had just been fished out of the lake after two weeks, she wouldn't even bat an eye, but when some psychopath started kidnapping little girls, killing them and then dumping the bodies…_that_ she took personally. The girls needed justice, hell _she_ still needed justice. So despite the compulsion to gag and run home to her rescue dog Susie, Claudia began reading the little girl's liver temperature as Don, Ian and Elliott made their solemn march through the thick mud to the girl's grave.

"Is it Lily?" Was Elliott's first question the second they were close enough to be heard.

"It's hard to tell," Claudia replied grimly, it was an effort to keep her voice even as her eyes swam with unshed tears. "She's had it pretty rough."

"Shit," Don cursed angrily as he leaned over Claudia's shoulder and caught his first glimpse if the girl's corpse. Despite the many hours spent looking over the case file and at her picture at the dead of night, even Don was having trouble ID'ing the girl. She had severe lacerations to her cheek and jaw but it was the pinched, wizened expression on her face that had Don most concerned. She was literally skin and bones, it was almost as if the fat and tissue had been sucked dry from her face, chest and arms, through her small open mouth slack with death, and then re-deposited into her large swollen abdomen and bloated feet.

"What did he do to her?" Elliott asked amazed as he too crouched by the girl's small body, his fists clenched angrily.

"She's been starved," Ian replied, the only one it seemed to be able to hide his disgust as he examined the body with mild curiosity. "I saw something like this in the army when I was on a mission in Syria and again recently in Afghanistan."

"Syria? What did they station you there for?" Elliott asked amazed, happy to have a reason to look away from the corpse at his feet.

"I'm sure that's classified," Don replied causing the corners of Ian's sensuous mouth to turn upwards at the corners. "He could tell you but then he'd have to kill you…"

"Exactly," Ian nodded, before turning serious once more. "I believe her condition is referred to as 'Kwashiorkor', it's a form of malnutrition. Unfortunately it is all too common in poverty stricken countries such as Africa, but here in the US it's incredibly rare. You only really find it in child abuse cases…"

"Just like this one," Don sighed as he finished the sentence for Ian. "So what are you saying? Our suspect starved this little girl and caused…this?" He waved his hands above the body unable to find the words to describe the poor child's skinny and bloated form.

"No," Claudia replied, her gaze unable to meet his own. "This is quite advanced. I'm sure that your suspect didn't feed her once but this…to be this bad…she'll have been starved moths beforehand, maybe even years…"

"So the parents…?" Elliott asked heatedly as his face flushed with colour and his breathing became heavy. As a parent he found it impossible to believe what other parents could do to their children, unfortunately his experience as a homicide detective told him that it happened all too often.

"I'd find it hard to believe that they wouldn't notice their child's rapid weight loss or her distended stomach," Ian shook his head sympathetically as he placed a comforting hand on Elliott's shaking shoulder.

"Do we know yet that this is the Child Snatcher for sure?" Don asked worriedly. "And not some copycat?"

"Can't be a copycat," Ian replied assuredly.

"Why do you say that?" Don asked when Ian didn't elaborate.

"The brand," Ian told the small group as he pulled the top down on the girl's right shoulder. "We didn't release it to the press."

"So this means the odds that this is Lily is high," Don sighed, stressed out beyond his limits. Ok so we need to inform the parents and get a positive ID on Lily Blake ASAP. Anything else you can tell us Doc?" Don asked Claudia as his left hand tiredly raked its way through his messy brown hair.

"Just the usual, C.O.D is asphyxiation and lividity puts T.O.D at approximately ten p.m. last night. You'll have to wait till I've completed my autopsy tomorrow for the results of the TOX screen and anything else that is internal."

"Thanks Claudia," Ian smiled down at her as he offered her a hand back out of the grave.

"If you'll excuse me, I'll see you boys tomorrow," Claudia smiled back at Ian as she began to pack up her equipment while her colleagues put the girl in a child sized body bag before heading back to the van. It was protocol that she must accompany the body back to the morgue, which was convenient as she planned to start this autopsy right away anyway. She still had the fireplace victim and the gangbanger's autopsy's to do as well but the Child Snatcher case came first. It always would, until they caught him, and she knew that if anyone could do it, the two agents and detective, now circling the grave and working outwards toward the surrounding shrubs and bushes, could.

She had heard all about Charlie's brief earlier that day. They were close, real close and she hoped that the LA Child Snatcher could feel them breathing down the back of his neck. Perhaps it was why the corpse was still so fresh this time? Usually it would be almost week a before someone would find the girl, but this time? This time it had been in under a day because he hadn't buried her deep enough. Allowing a dog to sniff and half dig her out. He was making mistakes and she had every confidence that Don, Ian and Elliott would catch him in that mistake.

***Later That Same Night***

It felt odd to Charlie, stood outside his own home and he wasn't even sure whether to knock or use his key. Amita had been staying at the craftsman home since her arrival in LA a couple of nights before as, well technically it was her home too…

It was what made it so awkward for Charlie to decide whether to knock or use his key. He was definitely grateful, however, for the shelter of the new porch as he deliberated his next move. All afternoon the weather had chopped and changed between sun and rain, Charlie had almost thought that he was back in England again. Thankfully the rain had remained a light drizzle. That is, until Charlie had parked on the craftsman home's narrow driveway and made the short walk to the front door. Then the rain turned from a light shower to a full on downpour, not too dissimilar to the storm the night that Charlie had gone to Ian's door... He was just as soaked and just as uncertain then as he was now.

"Charlie?" An achingly familiar voice sounded from his left. Amita was curled up and wrapped tightly in a blanket on the new porch swing that Alan had installed whilst the pair had been in England. Her laptop was open and on her lap, a computer hacker through and through, Charlie couldn't imagine one without the other. The two were mutually exclusive.

"Amita," Charlie replied as he tucked his keys back into his suit jacket pocket and moved over to lean on the rail next to the swing. His cheeks flushing in embarrassment, he had been stood in front of the door for a full five minutes before Amita had announced herself. She was his wife; surely he should have sensed her…or something…

"I'm sorry-" They both said at the same time, after having lapsed into awkward silence, the only sound being the steady drumming of the rain. Laughing nervously, the pair regarded the other guardedly as Amita closed the laptop and made room for Charlie to sit down.

Loosening his tie, Charlie sat down and slumped slightly in the seat. There wasn't the greatest of room on the swing and Charlie could feel the heat of Amita through his thin cotton trousers. It was annoying and also a little distracting. He had worked out everything he needed to say on the journey home from the FBI offices but now? Sat next to Amita, the sweet familiar scent of her filling his nose, Charlie felt his throat choking up and his tongue getting tied. It would be all too easy for Charlie to stay sat there with her forever, but as the memory of Ian's smiling lips on his and the slightest scratch of his stubble on Charlie's chin as they kissed came back to him…Charlie knew that he couldn't keep up the lie any longer.

"Amita-"

"No, Charlie let me go first," She stopped him as she pulled the blanket tighter around her soft frame. "I'm sorry for fighting with you the other day…but mostly for what happened between Dev and me…" Amita told him sadly, her fingers twisting guiltily in her lap.

"Amita…" Charlie sighed wretchedly, feeling his own guilt like a lead weight in his stomach.

"No Charlie," She interrupted again. "I messed up ok…and I get why you're pissed at me but _I still love you_," She practically whined.

"I love you too," Charlie replied, twisting in his seat to face her. "I always have and I think I always will…but not the way you want me to…and definitely not the way that you need me to…" Taking her cold hand in his left one, Charlie put his right arm behind her on the swing and used his foot to start it rocking. "I was an idiot for running away, coming home like I did and I was childish for not picking up the phone, for giving everyone the run around for days…I was wrong. My only excuse is that I needed time. You gave me a lot to think about…like what I really want…"

"And it's not me…" Amita whispered sadly as tears began to fall down her soft pale cheeks.

"What happened in England," Charlie replied trying to help her understand, "I think it was a wakeup call for me. I let myself get stuck in my work, I pulled away from you. I was just so engrossed that I practically ignored you…it's no wonder you sought comfort in Dev…"

"That doesn't matter because I also put everything into my work… In fact I think I pulled away first and I've also been thinking... Maybe all we need is to go on a break. Spend a little time apart, go to counselling so that we can work towards moving past this and on with our lives," Amita rambled oblivious to Charlie's hesitation as he tried to find the words to phrase what needed to come next.

"Amita I cheated too," Charlie finally babbled bluntly, causing her to sit back and regard him closely. "Earlier today I kissed someone else…and last week I went to their house hoping that what we had…was still there. It was selfish of me and it was wrong. I wasn't going to go but the fact that I went anyway kind of told me all I needed to know… I don't want a break. I think we rushed into this. You want to move to England, I want to stay here... I think it's time that one of us is brave enough to hold up our hands and say 'it's not working'. Amita what I'm trying to say is that I think we should get a divorce."

"You bastard…" She hissed angrily as her hand slapped out and connected with his cheek causing it to sting. "I can't believe you kissed him!" She replied incredulously, ignoring the divorce comment for the time being.

"Wait…Him?" Charlie asked confused as his eyes swam, Amita packed quite a punch. He was lucky that she hadn't gone straight for the nose or he would have been seeing stars as well as nursing a broken nose!

"You actually had the balls to stand there and shout at me for sleeping with Dev when the whole time you was yelling you really wanted to be off with _Ian_!" She said his name like it was poison.

"That's crap and you know it is!" Charlie replied annoyed. "Ok maybe I didn't push him away today but I would never have slept with him whilst we were still together! Besides, how did you even know that it was Ian?" Charlie asked truly stunned.

"I'm your _wife_ Charlie," she replied huffily, getting up off the swing. "You really think I'm so blind that I can't see when _my husband_ is in love with another _man_?"

"Wait…you knew? For how long?" Charlie asked angrily, standing up too and following her as she tried to make a quick escape through the front door of their house. "_How long?_" He growled as he grabbed her arms roughly and turned her to face him. His grasp was painful but Amita wouldn't give him the satisfaction of screaming out.

"Ever since the pair of you went romping through the woods looking for the fugitive with the poisoned beef!" She shouted back as she wrenched her arm from his startled grasp.

"That was the second case we worked together…you and I weren't even dating back then…you've known for four and a half years and you said nothing? You got married to me anyway…knowing that I had doubts…!" Charlie took a couple steps backwards as if repelled by her.

"Ian left town," She rushed to explain; although why she felt the need she didn't know. Perhaps it had something to do with the look of pain and betrayal on her husband's handsome face. But hey! His lie was worse than hers…right? "Ian always left town and you? You never acted on the attraction so I figured that I still had a shot. Then when I was offered the job at Harvard and you worked so hard to get me to stay…I figured that you had finally chosen a side…that you wanted me. But the insecurity never went away. So I started reading your emails. I know that Ian was the one who kept things…platonic. He told you that you were confused. That you needed to be _sure_ and I thought that you had realised that it was me you had wanted all along. How silly of me right?"

"So you've been reading my emails? _All_ of them?" Charlie asked gobsmacked.

"I'm not proud of it…but Charlie you have to understand! I've wanted you ever since we met. Even before you started to entertain the notion of the two of us. I _loved_ you and I would have done _anything_ to keep you…" She drifted off as she realised her mistake. She had said too much.

"_Anything?_" He asked nastily. He understood now, oh yes he understood it all. "Like send Ian an email from my account?"

"I…"

"We got together in 2007, right around the time Ian gave me a wired email saying that he 'understood' and that we could still be 'friends'," Charlie folded his arms so that she couldn't see his shaking hands. "Did you know that he didn't speak to me for an entire year afterwards? That I thought…I didn't even know _what_ to think…but until he came back to help with a downed plane in 2008…it was like I couldn't even breathe!"

"Okay…maybe I told him to back off but don't you see? Wegot married Charlie. We fell so madly in love that _we_ got _married_." Amita took a step towards him, unable to see the sting of hurt in his eyes as his face was hidden by the shadows created by the storm clouds over head.

"I was going to leave you…did you know that?" Charlie spat back bitterly. "I was going to leave you and then I got his email telling me that he was settling down at Langley full time... I _stayed _with you because I couldn't be with_ him. _I_ married _you because he did what he always does and left me again."

"_I_ never left you…unlike _him_!" Amita took a step towards Charlie, putting her hands on his heaving chest. She could feel his pulse, it was racing but not from her touch.

"Then what do you call sleeping with Dev…? Hmm?" Charlie shook his head indignantly, as he thrust her hands off of him. "I was faithfully to you…all those years and I would have stayed faithful…so why Amita? Why did you sleep with Dev?"

"Because I saw your emails to Ian whilst he was in Afghanistan. Okay? I realised that despite his leaving, that despite your vows to me…you _still_ loved _him_. Even after all these years, after having committed yourself to me, you just couldn't help yourself. I knew…I knew that you wanted to be with him okay? Not me. I was just so angry that I shook with it you know…?" Sighing, Amita crossed back over to the porch swing and sat down. The blanket had fallen down her left shoulder and her sleek black hair was mussed. Charlie couldn't help but wonder when he had stopped wanting her? "I guess I wanted to punish you. Make you realise that I'm still a catch that men still found me sexually attractive even if you didn't. I didn't think, I couldn't think…well about anything but Ian and you. He's always been there Charlie…between us. I guess I've known for a long time that this day was coming…"

"You've been waiting for this?" Charlie asked incredulously. "You've been waiting for this…Amita, you created this!" He gestured wildly with his arms, waving them around frustrated. "You talk about honesty, I was going to be honest with you about Ian and then you sent him the email. I knew what I wanted and it wasn't you…but you made that impossible. You say I settled for you, damn right I did. But you made me. I wouldn't have married you if I had known…"

"I…this is really it isn't it?" She asked sadly, resignation finally setting in as she heard his words properly for the first time that night. "Your right Charlie…I'm sorry…I won't fight a divorce, ok. I knew you had doubts, just like I knew you only proposed because I was kidnapped and nearly killed... I shouldn't have let it get this far…I'm sorry. You may have loved someone else but you were always faithful until I wasn't. I get it ok, and I won't fight it."

"Look…I should have been straight with you…bad choice of words…" Charlie smiled sadly, his anger fading as his wife began to cry earnestly. "I treated you as second best our whole relationship. I think I never took that step with Ian because I was afraid of telling people that I might be gay, or bi or whatever. I just…"

"You love him," She smiled weakly through her tears. "And you're finally ready."

"I'm sorry…for everything, particularly what I said about settling for you. I never settled Amita. I loved you so much that I wasn't sure half the time who I wanted. Ian and I had this great chemistry but it was more than that…we could talk about, well _anything_. But you and me Amita…we made so much sense and I really did love you. I didn't propose because I was scared. I proposed because we were at the point where you get married or break up. The relationship had to move forwards and I was sure that I could do that. Sure I wanted to be with Ian, but Amita…for you I would have stayed true to those vows, I would have made you happy and I know you could have made me happy too."

"Why get divorced then?" She asked hopefully, her eyes bright from the tears.

"Because I think your sleeping with Dev opened my eyes to a lot of the cracks in our relationship. I think that coming home, being around family and then seeing Ian again…I remembered what I knew back in 2007." Moving over to the swing, Charlie held onto the chain and looked out at the street, transformed in the rain. "You and I, we work great together…" He said quietly after some time had passed, "but when he doesn't reply to an email or pick up his phone…when he tells me about the latest dangerous fugitive he's chasing or when he's in enemy territory, trying to be brave though you can hear the quiver of fear in his voice…fear that he doesn't let anyone else close enough to hear…I want to move mountains to be there with him. It's like this weight crushes my chest and leaves me a nervous wreck. I love him, it's not fair…it doesn't fit with where my life is now…but I can't be with you knowing that a small part of me would always wish I was with him. It's not fair to either of us to delay the inevitable, to try counselling. Like you said, you always knew this day was coming…"

"Yes," She nodded sadly. "I guess I kind of did…"

"What will you do now?" Charlie asked as he sat down and took his wife into his arms for the last time, the sudden movement rocking the swing gently, comfortingly.

"Cambridge offered me a full time position," She replied into the folds of his shirt, he smelt like sandalwood and soap with a dash of chalk. She was going to miss him so much…

"That is amazing," He pulled back and began to wipe away her tears. "Amita…I'll understand if you can't but…I hope…in time, that we can be friends again one day. I'd miss you too much otherwise…"

"I hope so too," she replied pulling back further. "You know…in time…okay, wow…I guess I'd better go pack!" She said overly bright as she wiped roughly at her wet cheeks, smearing her already smudged mascara across her cheeks. "You'll understand my not wanting to stay…?"

"Of course," Charlie replied, getting up and holding the front door open for her. "I'd better tell dad what's going on…"

"Yes," she nodded numbly. "I'll want to say goodbye and…thank him before I leave." She hiccupped through her tears.

"Okay, be right back," He told her as he made his way to his dad's garage/condo, stopping to give her elbow the briefest of squeezes.

It was strange, he was angry at her and yet he knew in his heart he had already forgiven her, he just hoped that she could forgive him too because he wasn't lying about loving her, he was just sad that it couldn't be in the way she wanted or needed.

"Charlie?" Alan asked when answered his door and he saw his son's stricken expression.

"Amita and I are getting a divorce," He whispered softly, then burst into tears that he swiped furiously at in disgust. Why did he have to be such a girl sometimes? If Don was there he would have been calling him Charlotte not Chuck…

"Oh Charlie," His father, Alan, sighed as he pulled his weeping son in for a rough hug. "I think you had better fill me in." His previous anger put aside, Alan helped his youngest son inside and listened patiently as Charlie told him _everything_.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10:**

***The Next Morning ***

Opening her eyes, not rested at all, Robin Brooks stretched out slowly-her hand snaking its way over to her fiancée's side of the bed, only to find it disappointingly empty. There had been a time, when they had first started dating, that Don wouldn't have dreamed of leaving her bed unless it was an emergency at work or to get breakfast at the little café under her old apartment building. The almond croissants there had been to die for and second best only to sex as the best way to start the day or at least they had thought so. It was funny how things like that and priorities changed the longer the relationship got.

It was not to be that morning, however, as she and Don were still fighting over 'Case Zero' and her lack of progress at finding a judge willing enough to stick his neck out and unseal the record. Not that you could really call it fighting, it was more like her giving him the silent treatment and him ignoring her back…let's just say it wasn't the first morning that week that Robin had woken to a cold and empty bed.

Angry, Robin turned over onto her stomach and screamed into her pillow frustrated. How was she meant to put it right, if he was never there to apologise to? Not that she felt she had anything to apologise for…she just hated being at loggerheads with him. It was this infernal case! Their lack of significant progress at finding their suspect was getting to everyone and Robin knew that Don was taking it personally, just as he had for every other crime that he had solved where they hadn't gotten there quick enough to save their victim. She was just relieved that he didn't come home and drink out his stress. She had seen too many good men crack under the pressure of the job and the thought of Don amongst them stole the breath from her chest, even if she was still pissed at him, it was hard to stay angry at him for long.

Resolved to another lonely morning getting ready, Robin set about her daily routine as she tried to put her errant fiancée from her mind and tried to focus on the task at hand. She had four more judges to try and she was actually hopeful for one of them. He was very similar to Judge Tompkins, whom Robin knew wouldn't have hesitated to give her a warrant to unseal the record, even with their flimsy evidence. Judge Tompkins hadn't had a single political aspiration in his life and therefore was one of the few judges who could truly claim to be impartial. You would be surprised at how rare and liberating that was.

The thing that was annoying Robin most about 'Case Zero' was the fact that the two cases had at least three elements in common but they could all be written off as a coincidence. It was a catch twenty-two. she needed the file unsealed so they could see the coroner's report and the type of flower found in the girl's hands to tie the two cases together, however, without the specifics from the autopsy or the 'type' of flower found, she couldn't link the two cases and therefore couldn't get the file unsealed to get the name of their suspect-a fact that not one single judge that she had visited so far seemed to be sympathetic to. _Oh well,_ she thought hopelessly, _at least she was trying_. Don had to see that if nothing else…or at least he would if he was ever around.

Sighing loudly, Robin paused briefly opposite the large mirror on the wall hanging over a sideboard and cocked a critical eyebrow at her reflection. She was wearing a sliming black blouse and pencil skirt with a small split up to the knees in the back. She was also wearing black swede pumps, no stockings, and a black suit jacket that matched the skirt. Her hair was pulled tightly into a knot at the back of her head with combs that had been a present from Don before they had gotten back together. He had planted a GPS in them that had ended up saving her life and were now being used to make sure every last stray strand was either pinned back or sprayed down and locked into place. She had decided to be more subtle with her makeup, standard mascara and eyeliner and transparent lip gloss. The only splash of colour was from the blusher she had used to accentuate her cheekbones.

With the slightest of nods, Robin approved her appearance. She looked like she was ready to do battle and that was exactly how it felt some days to be the District Attorney. She'd had to fight to get where she was today and it was her steely determination that had earned her the nickname 'Ice Bitch'. She didn't mind though, in many respects the name helped her to cut through all the bureaucratic bullshit and get straight to the point. Besides, she was comfortable within her own skin. She knew that she could be standoffish sometimes, but really she was quite…well, soft. Put her in high heels and a sharp suit though, and it was like she was a whole other person. It was her mask, her uniform and if it meant that ultimately things got done, well then she had no problem with that!

Picking up her keys from a bowl on the sideboard, Robin got into her car and made the long journey to work, she was going to be late but she had no meetings so she figured she had time to waste, besides after all the rain they had been getting lately it was nice to sit, window rolled down, sun shining away as she listened to summer hits on the radio. She didn't get much 'down' time as she was normally working hard all day, so she liked to take advantage of the odd moments of relaxation whenever they came around, which was almost never!

"Walking on sunshine…yeah, yeah!" She sang loudly along to the radio and was still humming it later as she walked through a maze of desks to get to her office, stopping only occasionally to get updates on some outstanding cases. Her nose stuck in one particularly juicy file, Robin didn't see the old man at her secretary's desk till it was too late.

He wore an expensive suit, exclusively tailored to his frame, she knew this because it fitted him so well, that and the fact that he wouldn't be caught dead in a suit from a mall. He had a green velvet waist coat and expensive dark loafers that squeaked on the polished wooden floor as he swapped his legs over. Newspaper in one hand and tea in the other, Robin guessed that he had been there a little while.

"Dad?" She said confused as she closed the gap between them. "Nope, not my birthday…" She added sarcastically as she looked at the date on her watch in mock wonderment.

"Very funny," He replied his face dead pan as he folded the newspaper in his lap and stood up.

"It's perfect weather for a round of golf…so the club can't be shut…" She said conversationally as she walked over to her office door and pulled out the keys. "So why _are_ you _here_ dad?"

"I'm here-" He replied huffily, puffing his chest out to intimidate her the way he had when she had been a little girl….when it hadn't mattered that her father was estranged to her… "-Because of the case that you're working."

"What case? I'm the DA Dad, I work many cases. I'm a really _busy_ woman," She reminded him petulantly; she knew exactly which case he was referring to.

"What case?" He feigned surprise, years as the top Lawyer in LA had honed his abilities to play theatricality to perfection. After all as Billy Flynn sang in Chicago and Robin's father used to drill into her as a young girl, "To win cases you have to give the jury the old razzle dazzle". Robin personally hated it when opposing council resorted to parlour tricks; she found that it was just as easy to play to a jury without putting on a show. It irritated her more though when her own father tried to pull that crap on her. It might have worked when she was ten, but now a grown woman…her resolve was harder to break.

"Get to the point dad," she sighed, all patience lost as she entered her office and settled herself at her desk.

"Did you really think I wouldn't hear about how you've been harassing all the judges in California?" He cried outraged and clearly put out as he sunk into one of the chairs opposite from her desk.

"I'd hardly say the state…just the west coast," She replied flippantly as she shoved the bundle of files that she had collected last night off the top of her laptop and proceeded to boot it up.

"Are you _trying_ to ruin your career?" He asked sternly suddenly deadly serious. After all it was hard for the great Steven Brooks to grasp the fact that his precious little girl didn't want to follow in his glorious footsteps. He was still holding his breath that she would retire to the bench as he had. Robin preferred it, however, in the 'trenches' as Steven like to commonly refer to it and she had no dream to become a judge any time soon.

"I'm only asking for a warrant. They said no, so I moved on. That's hardly grounds for harassment, so why are you really here?" She asked firmly, without even looking up from her screen. She hoped that it made her look busy, when really she was playing solitaire.

"You've got to have known that it would get back to me!" He pointed to his chest dramatically. In her head she could see all the local judges that frequented her father's club in a sauna discussing her and laughing…

"Sure but I hardly thought it would be worth a social call. Shouldn't you be on the nineteenth hole by now?" she asked bitterly, unable to keep the hurt from her voice.

"Did that boyfriend of yours put you up to this?" He asked quizzically, ignoring her little quip about his drinking.

"No _dad,_ my _fiancé_ didn't put me up to anything because believe it or not, I am my own woman and more than capable to decide to help out all on my own," Crossing her arms across her chest, Robin leaned back and observed her father properly for the first time that morning. Something in his hostile glare told her he was reacting from a misguided place of love, so she decided to try being real with him for a change. "Look," She sighed when he still hadn't replied. "I'm doing this for Connie."

"Your _assistant's _kid?" He sneered, as she had sort of known, but hoped, he wouldn't.

"How can you sit there and say that? Like I shouldn't care that Michael's little girl was _murdered_, after being _raped_ and _smothered_? I've babysat for her. She was bright and funny and she wanted to be just like her dad…but she isn't worth jeopardising my career over...right?" She was pleased to see him recoil slightly. Her 'frostiness' after all was legendary…

"God," He cussed angrily. "You are just like your mother!"

"If you mean by 'my mother', the police commissioner in DC, well…there are worst people to be like," She looked pointedly at her father.

"Touché," He sighed, his resolve weakening. "So you are set on this…this poor error in judgement on your part?"

"If you are asking whether I wish to continue doing what is _right._ Then yes. I have a few more judges to try-"

"-_Robin_." Her father cut her off.

"What?" She asked harsher than she had meant to.

"Why didn't you come to me?" Standing up, he moved over to her bookcase, filled with law books-one for every birthday since she was born. Her father was lucky that she had enjoyed criminal justice, because her going to law school was seriously in doubt her freshman year of high school… "You went to practically every judge in the state…I was the presiding judge on that case. So why didn't you come to me first? Why?"

"I guess I figured you would tell me it wasn't worth my time…but more than that, I was worried that we would fight and then you would leave again. I wasn't sure if you would still come to my wedding…" Getting up as well, Robin joined her father by the bookcase. He was fingering the spine of her favourite law tomb and pulling the book off of the shelf, Robin opened the front cover to the inscription her father had written there: _Liberty is the right to do everything which the law allows, _a quote by Charles-Louis De Secondat in the eighteenth century_._

"Darling," Steven Brooks sighed impatiently as her fingers caressed the words that he had inscribed there twenty years or more ago. They were the words that had inspired her to delve deeper into prosecution over defence law, that and the fact that she preferred standing up for victims and not defending murderers… "I would never give up the chance to give my daughter away on her wedding day." Putting his hands over hers, Steven pulled her over to the chairs opposite her desk and gestured for her to sit as he did.

"Then why do you refuse to accept that Don and I are getting married," She asked her toes, unable to meet his eyes.

"It's not personal," He told her as he reached over and lifted her chin. "It's just that he's a cop, worse he's a FED and you're a lawyer. The two should never mix."

"Why?" She asked incredulously. "Because you and mum didn't last, me and Don don't have a chance?"

"You're twisting my words," He snapped back irritably. "I am merely expressing concern that the two of you won't last and I'm worried that you might get hurt. Ok, yes maybe that concern is coloured by my history with your mother, but that just means I've been there. I know how the little things slide, two workaholics with a family…it's not an easy road…there is a lot of bitterness at the end of it."

"You know what yes, we are workaholics. But do you want to know the man I said yes to? The man I'm going to marry?" Robin replied quietly, her eyes filling with unshed tears. "I am marrying a man so loving and so kind, that when he fails a victim he takes it personally despite it not being his fault. He is putting everything into this case, even though he didn't even want it because _I_ asked him to. He is spreading himself so thin, that he goes to bed with me because he knows I can't sleep properly unless it's in his arms and then he gets up and finishes all the work he didn't get done in the day time because he was working the LA Child Snatcher case….for me. He gets about five hours of sleep a day and he thinks I don't know…he thinks…dad I'm…I'm worried about him..."

"Robin…"

"No Dad, you accused me of jeopardising my career for him because he asked me to," She leaned forward intently, her hand hovering over her heaving chest. She was close to hyperventilation. It was funny that people could accuse her of being cold, but wherever Don was concerned…there was only love and passion. "Well he didn't have to because I would ok. I'd walk over hot coals for that man! Besides if anyone's jeopardising their career, he's the one who is putting his promotion on the line for _me._ The job he always wanted…and because I went to him…because I asked him to take the case…he is moving heaven and hell to close it, that dad…that is the man that I am going to marry. So you'd better just accept it now and be there for me later!"

"Ok," Steven held his hands up defensively. "Fine…"

"Fine what?" She asked confused, the wind temporarily knocked from her sails.

"Fine, you are clearly set on this…so convince me. Give me your pitch." He sat back and folded his hands in his lap expectantly.

"Ok," She smiled shyly; _it was worth a shot…right?_ "All the victims share the same commonalities."

"Blue eyes, blond hair and approximately aged five fits the description of at least twenty victims to come across my desk last month alone," Her father rejected it with a swift flick of the wrist.

"Yes, but how many of those were found holding white flowers?"

"Not as many, but it isn't uncommon for a suspect to place flowers on the body, especially when there is guilt involved." He shrugged, non-committedly, but she could see the spark of interest in his eyes. "What about murder weapon? It's not the same."

"It's almost the same," She leant forward and plucked the LA Child Snatcher case from her desk and held it out for him to look at. "He smothered his sister with a pillow right? Well our suspect is smothering the girls with his hands. He's bigger; it was his second and now fourth kill…it shows progression and potential escalation!" But when it seemed that he wasn't listening anymore, Robin practically growled her impatience. "Look, all right! I know that it all sounds more like coincidence than fact…but until I see that file I can't link the two together properly and make it fact!" She was almost shouting now.

"Where did you get this photo?" Her father replied after a moment of silence had lapsed between them. He seemed completely oblivious to her little rant.

"What do you mean?" She asked confused as she took the picture from his white fingertips. "That's Ellie Wilson, the first victim. Why?"

Shaking his head, Steven reached across the desk for his newspaper and pulled out an A4 envelope that had been hidden beneath.

"What is that?" She asked even more confused.

"Here is your warrant and your file…unsealed." Handing the manila envelope over to his shaking daughter, he watched as she snatched it from his grasp and tore it open. She decided to ignore the fact that he clearly had intended to give her the file all along, but had made her make her pitch anyway.

"Thomas Danby," She whispered a couple times, "Thomas Danby," rolling it around on her tongue for good measure. It didn't sound like the name of a serial killer and, if she remembered correctly, not one of the names on Charlie's list. Deflating a little, Robin opened the report to the part about the little girl's autopsy. It was then that she saw what her father had seen. The victim, Abigail Danby was the spitting image of Ellie Wilson. They weren't just similar characteristics either. Ellie was practically Abigail's doppelganger. They had their case zero.

"His name won't be Danby anymore," Her father spoke barely above a whisper. He looked a little green around the edges…

"Dad?" She asked concerned.

"After he was found guilty at trial, Thomas Danby was admitted to Dr Kessler's care as a ward of the state. He had to undergo therapy but it was agreed that when the boy's under lying condition was healed…well…it was just such a public trial that after having served his time it was suggested that he would be safer in protective custody. New name…new life. He was a boy, under incredible stress at home and in an incredibly sick way…protecting his sister. The courts were lenient. I see now that we were wrong to be so…"

"You couldn't have known dad. If anything it's Kessler's fault for letting him out…"

"Robin, we are talking about a crime that happened twenty years ago…it's not like he's killed anyone till now. Kessler couldn't have known that he would do this…besides the fact that Ellie was an exact copy of his sister, it possible that it caused him to have a psychotic episode or something…" Steven shook his head sadly.

"Dad…I need that new name, Don needs the name." Taking her father's shaking hands in hers, she smiled comfortingly.

"I don't know it…only the marshals do…"

"Ok," she nodded, even though she was cursing inside. They were close, ridiculously so. She needed to tell Don…if he would pick up that is…

***Meanwhile,**

**At the LA County Morgue***

Waiting in the LA County Morgue's waiting room was never a…comfortable experience. For Elliott it was much a kin to waiting at the doctor's office, except every patient is dead and the friends and families are left to wait in various stages of grief on the unforgiving plastic chairs that even after ten minutes of sitting on, leave your butt numb. He noticed that the pace of the doctors was also remarkably slower than his local doctor's office, possibly because it was no longer a matter of life and death…only death.

Shifting uncomfortably, Elliott reached down and pulled his suit jacket shut to hide his badge. It had been his experience, on more than one occasion, that relatives saw the badge and automatically assumed you were there for them and could tell them something about their friend, loved one or family member's murder. He could understand where they were coming from; after all they were just trying to make sense of the tragedy. Their lives would never be the same again and they just needed someone to tell them why…

"Stop fidgeting," A tired looking Don told Elliott, his eyes closed, head rested back against the blandly painted beige walls. He looked…well awful in Elliott's opinion. Don's skin was pale, almost translucent, and he had massive panda eyes, like the black smudges NFL players put under their eyes before the big game. If Elliott wasn't mistaken, Don also looked a little thinner than when he had first met the impressive agent and that wasn't a good thing.

"We shouldn't have come so early," Elliott replied, unable to keep the whine from his voice. He had known that they would be left to wait as Claudia probably hadn't finished the autopsy yet, but Don had been insistent that they got there as soon as possible. He had a pile of files on his lap, but after a quick peek in the first one, Don had settled for napping instead. Splitting his time as SAIC and running point on the LA Child Snatcher case was evidently taking more of a toll than Elliott had realised. Not that you would ever hear Don complain….he wasn't like that.

"Why don't you go and get some coffee," Don sighed, opening his eyes to the harsh glare of the morgues unnatural florescent lighting.

"The coffee here sucks," Elliott shook his head sadly and crossed his arms as he slumped lower in his seat.

"Then go get me a coffee," Don replied irritably, his patience wearing thin.

"Ok," Elliott nodded sullenly as he got up to go find a coffee machine but stopped when Claudia came bursting through the double doors that lead back to the coroner's offices.

"Clau?" Don asked concerned as she stormed past without even seeing them. "Clau what's happened?"

"Don?" She blinked startled; she was shaking from head to toe.

"Hey, come here," Don replied soothingly and held out his large hand for her to take. "Come on," He smiled ruefully. "You aren't going to make a crippled man chase after you are you?"

"Sorry," She coughed embarrassed. Her eyes were bloodshot and her cheeks puffy, she didn't look good when crying but hey, who does?

"That's ok," He smiled again as he put a comforting arm around her small shoulders and rubbed the small of her back as she rested into his warm embrace.

"What's going on, eh?" Elliott asked kindly as he moved over to the pair and knelt down in front of the sniffing and hiccupping coroner.

"Dr Ridenhour asked me to 'step out'" Claudia replied before letting out a few Spanish curses.

"She's back from holiday?" Elliott asked confused and Claudia nodded weakly in reply.

"Why did she tell you to 'step out'?" Don enquired gently, more than a little confused.

"I may have stepped out of line with the girl's parents…" Claudia shifted her gaze away…well shiftily.

"The parents are here?" Don repeated stunned. He knew they would be needed for an official ID but…one of them should really be in there with them. Not wanting to leave Claudia when she was so visible upset, Don gestured with is eyes for Elliott to get his ass in there. Fortunately Elliott was quick on the uptake.

"I'll be right back," He told Claudia as he gave her knee another quick squeeze of support.

"So…it's definite then?" Don asked quietly, a small part of him had still hoped... "Is it Lily?"

"Yes," she whispered sadly as a fresh wave of tears streamed down her cheeks and soaked his white linen shirt. Her mascara had run like Alice Coopers. "Don…what they did to that little girl…what the Child Snatcher did…its _horrible_…"

"Don't worry about the parents," Don assured her, a quiet anger rising in his gut. It had been there since seeing Lily's body. "I'm going to get her justice. We're close Clau, Charlie got us a list of suspects…it's only a matter of days I'm sure of it." He said more confidently than he felt.

"Well you had better hurry because right now he could be scouting his next victim already…"

"Listen, why don't you take a few minutes, grab a coffee and then meet us back in there?" Don asked after a long silence had lapsed between them, her sobbing was now a gentle snuffling.

"Ok," She nodded weakly, as she reached up and wiped her tears and smudged her mascara further.

"Ok," He smiled, as he grabbed his crutches and pulled himself up. He couldn't wait until his foot had healed properly and the boot could be removed! "See you in there…" He told her more cheerfully than he felt. All he could think was damn…and then of Robin. She was his soundboard and he so wished that they were talking so that he could unload about the revelation that it was definitely Lily. Shaking his head, Don sighed morosely before making his, now unmistakable, hobble, step and hop routine through the double doors that Elliott had made his way through only moments before.

***Later at FBI Headquarters***

"Ok so someone want to bring me up to speed please?" Assistant Director Nick Callaghan asked impatiently as Don and Elliott waited for the last couple of agents to stop talking. "Will, Brian shut up and listen."

"Ok so Dr Ridenhour's exam showed that Lily was drugged just like Connie. Flunitrazepam or Rohypnol as it's more commonly known. What's interesting is that he felt the need to drug her when her own state of malnutrition was so horrific that she wouldn't have had the strength to resist," Elliott replied, notebook in hand as he relayed the facts. He wasn't a public speaker; in fact he hated speaking in public so much that he thought he might throw up. Fortunately having Don's reassuring presence beside him went some way towards keeping the nausea at bay.

"Speaking of which," Don pointed the little remote at the large interactive whiteboard and loaded the autopsy photos. "Ridenhour's report shows that Lily's liver was enlarged, her stomach bloated, feet swollen and hair brittle with a coppery tinge. Pair this with the post-mortem bruising and facial lacerations...we needed dental records as well as the parent's ID to prove that the girl's body is definitely that of Lily Blake. Unfortunately it is…"

"Ok," Nick replied, leaning forwards in his chair to look at the photos better. "What about the lacerations and bruising? In past victims it was about revealing the previous abuse…it that the case here?"

"As far as Ridenhour could tell…no. The x-rays and medical records came back negative. The Blake's may have been starving their daughter but they weren't hitting her," Elliott answered after the briefest hesitation. It was a first in the case and Elliott hated it when serial killers escalated. It just came to show you couldn't always predict how things would go down and the loss of control honestly scared him. "We did secure a partial from the bruise, it is some ring design. Matt is trying to clear up the image for analysis."

"So the Child Snatcher is beating the kids now?" Nick asked understandably confused. "Your profile states that he kills as a form of protection, that he thinks he's saving them? So why is he now abusing them?" Nick directed his questions now to Will who was shifting uncomfortably in the back row.

"True," Will said shakily as Brian gestured for him to stand up. "The profile still stands. He is taking children that he thinks needs saving and killing them to protect them from their abusers. But Lily was his fourth kill, fifth if we include case zero. The longer he spends torturing these girls before their deaths…I fear he is transitioning from saviour to abuser. Perhaps it was a role he played to help him at first and now he's enjoying it. It's also possible that he has split personalities. Without an ID and access to medical and psychiatric notes it is all just speculation and assumptions I'm afraid…"

"Great," Nick frowned disappointed. "So where does this leave us?"

"At a loose end," Ian replied moodily as he came striding into the office, a sheepish looking Charlie following five paces behind. "When I saw the body last night it occurred to me, the outfit was all wrong this time." Taking the remote off of Don, Ian loaded up a photo of Lily at the grave site. "Those clothes don't fit. I assumed that it was because he bulk bought under the knowledge that he'd be killing a lot of girls and didn't anticipate starving the girl, however, lets entertain the notion that the killing of Ellie Wilson was a spontaneous thing as the autopsy suggested…then he wouldn't have had the outfit unless he already owned them."

"What are you driving at Ian?" Brian asked eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"I've just come from the lab. I asked them to test the outfit and they found mothballs on the girl's jacket. They should fire the idiot who processed them before because when they retested the other coats they found the same. Brilliantly preserved coats but they are without a doubt all old, twenty years is the guesstimate." Opening up the other files on the computer Ian walked over to the board and pointed at each image individually. Side by side it was possible to see that each coat was slightly different.

"I removed the shop data from my equation and five names came back with a seventy five per cent likeliness to live in our hot zone." Charlie walked over to his map that Don had duck taped to the wall and scribbled on the five new locations.

"So we now have fifteen suspects?" Elliott asked incredulously. It seemed like whenever they took a step forward they took two steps back.

"Worse," Ian sighed as he threw the pointer on the table and shoved his hands in the pockets of his combat trousers. "They recovered a hair from the latest victim's jacket and it doesn't match the DNA collected from any of them. LAPD are pulling their surveillance of the suspects. They don't have the man power to cover fifteen. They barely had enough for ten…"

"Is it possible the hair belonged to the original child?" Liz asked from where she was perched to one side.

"Yes, but the database came back empty and without case zero unsealed we can't test the two samples," Ian grunted miserably as Charlie paused by the photo board next to his map.

"What's this?" Charlie asked, suddenly swivelling around and waving the photo that had caught his attention.

"It's the brand that the Child Snatcher has been burning onto our vic's," Don replied as he moved over to his brother to get a better look. We think that the Snatcher intends to kill eight girls or the number has some relevance to him, but we don't know what…"

"That's because it's not the number eight," Charlie held the photo out vertically before tipping it horizontally. "It's eternity."

"What?" Nick asked meanly, beyond fed up.

"Your serial killer is telling you that he won't stop…" Charlie blanched under Don's boss's cold stare. "Or that child abuse is an eternal cycle, could be why he kills the child instead of letting them go into care…"

"Fantastic," Nick threw his arms dramatically in the air. "We have fifteen names that aren't a DNA match to a hair found on a dead child's clothes, he's escalating and he won't stop…fantastic…"

"Hey," Ian told Nick sternly. "Charlie is only trying to help. We had no clue what our killer was telling us before, now we do. That's progress of a kind. As for the names I propose we pull them all in for questioning, check alibis. It's got to be worth a shot right? Because the way I see it, the killer is on his down time between victims. We could follow them for a week and still not find anything. We need to strike now while we can.

"Ok," Nick replied abashed, as Don watched on in amazement.

"But you were against tipping our hand before, how are you going to spin us calling several government employees in for questioning? Even if they are all gardeners?" Don asked after a moment.

"Well they are in the parks right? Say that they are coming in as potential witnesses. Make them feel like they are aiding the investigation. Those who are innocent will be willing to cooperate and it's well documented that serial killers like to insert themselves into the investigation…we'll look at who is too cooperative and use potential triggers in the interrogation to judge who to cut from the list," Will told Nick from the back.

"That's settled then. Boy and girls you have some gardeners to arrest, I suggest you get on it. Prepare everything tonight and then bring them in in the morning. No time to waste after all." Getting up Nick left the office without so much as a goodbye or the wave of the hand.

"Ian, I'll let you head the interviews," Don told the room as he gestured for Elliott and Colby to follow him. "I want you both to interrogate the parents."

"Sure thing," Elliott replied.

"Where are you going?" Colby asked as he got up and followed the two out of the office. "I'm due to testify in the judge Tompkins trial in a couple of hours."

"I have some business to take care of. You two have it covered and the interrogation shouldn't take long. We have them separated. Start with the mother she's already close to cracking." Sliding his mobile from his pocket Don dialled a number and pressed it to his ear. "I'll be late in tomorrow so just follow Ian's instructions for the time being. If the interrogation goes on longer get Liz to step in for you. Bye!"

"Don Eppes…in late?" Colby asked Elliott incredulously once Don had step, hobbled, and swung his way out of earshot.

"Must be important," Elliott shrugged as he made his way to the interrogation rooms at the back of the large office, Colby hot on his heels. "Mrs Blake," Elliott said sternly, chucking the file on the small table so hard that the autopsy photo's spilled out into her lap as Colby blocked the exit, his arms crossed and his large muscles flexed menacingly. "Let me tell you how this is going to go…"

***Later that Night***

Pulling onto the drive, Robin parked her car behind Don's Chevy Suburban and waited for her drumming heart to settle. Though it was impossible these days to tell if Don was home by his car, as Elliott had taken to chauffeuring him around after his accident chasing Robert Burnett, Robin was able to make out a small light coming from the room over the built in garage. It was Don's office away from the office, and she was a little surprised to see he was home let alone in his study. She was glad though; she still needed to tell him about case zero, she just wanted to make amends first and she had chickened out after the first dial, which was half the reason why her heart was beating too fast, her pulse was jumping erratically, and her hands were shaking in anticipation or fear… It was hard for her to admit that she had been wrong…harder to say she was sorry and she hoped to do both at the same time, at this rate she would probably have a coronary!

Resolved to her fate and deciding that she couldn't put it off any longer, Robin got out of the car and instantly removed her new swede pumps, that had caused her feet so much misery but looked impressive as hell in court, Robin limped her way into the house and up the stairs to the open doorway of Don's study. Unlike his office at work, this one was religiously tidy, perhaps because he didn't do much work in there, you know besides the whole late night sessions that she wasn't supposed to know about, or perhaps it was because he appreciated that Robin liked things neat and tidy and didn't want her to know the extent of his sloppiness, as if she hadn't seen the backseat of his car which was loaded with takeout cartons and burger wrappers from his many stakeouts…

It was a small room really, just big enough for a large corner desk and computer, large black leather recliner and stool and his giant sixty inch flat screen TV that he could watch the Chargers's games in high definition in peace.

Upon reaching the office doorway, Robin realised that the small light that she had seen was coming from the TV that was turned down low and reporting the find of Lily's Blake's body late last night. Don was lying on his large recliner, squinting angrily at the TV, a stack of files resting on the small cooler by his chair-mainly used on game days.

Dropping her pumps, Robin walked into the room, careful to walk on her tiptoes to save her aching heels. Don's eyes watched her progress intently, uncertainty and hesitation in his beautifully expressive eyes. "Rob?" He croaked as she lowered herself onto his lap and curled up next to him, her nose buried in his neck. His arms instantly wrapped around her, his embrace was warm and comforting.

"I'm sorry," She whispered, her breath tickling his clavicle, and sending a ripple of desire throughout his body.

"No…I pushed you, I ignored you when you said it couldn't be done. I'm_ sorry_." Rubbing his hand down her back, Don found the point where blouse met skirt and pulled it out to make a little entrance for his hand to rest on the small of her back as he used the other to tilt her face up to meet his.

"My father visited me today," She told him suddenly, she had longed to tell him all day and in the comfort of his embrace she felt safe…secure.

"But it's not even your birthday," He smiled as he kissed the tip of her nose lovingly. He knew about Robin and Steven's awkward relationship. She had spent her life trying to get her father to notice her and take her seriously. It had taken getting the position of DA for him to even congratulate her on her outstanding career. Even then his first question had been when she intended to retire to the bench like he had.

"That's what I told him," She replied sadly as she played with a loose thread on his white linen shirt. He hadn't changed since getting home, but knowing him he was probably still on call or something…

"What did he want though? I didn't get you in trouble with your dad di I?" He asked suddenly concerned. He knew that the great Steven Brooks didn't like him very much but he hoped that hadn't caused a bigger rift between the pair.

"No…well he did accuse you of putting me up to it, but I explained that I wanted to…for Connie," She didn't meet his eye as she said this, and Don couldn't help but feel that familiar guilt churning in his gut.

"Sorry," He sighed sadly, unsure what else he could say.

"It's ok Don," She smiled for the first time. "I told him that there wasn't anything he could say to get me to call off the wedding and…"

"CALL OFF THE WEDDING!" Don shouted startled as he sat up straighter and held her back from his chest by her shoulders. "Don't even think about it!" He was a little out of puff and realised that he might be hurting her so let go with a mumbled apology.

"Don't worry," She smiled sexily up at him from under her lashes. "I told him that I wasn't going anywhere and then he gave me case zero."

"What?" Don couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"I have case zero," She replied slowly, teasing him with her words as she teased his body with her hands. "Unsealed," She whispered in his ear.

"Robin! That's…fantastic! I knew you could do it…you…you angel!" Hugging her close Don laughed disbelievingly.

"You're welcome," She laughed back as he claimed her mouth with his, till her lips parted and slipped his tongue inside.

Moving her leg over so that she was straddling him, Robin melted into the kiss and let it take her places as his magic hands did special things to her body. Arching her back, her hard breasts pressed against the thin fabric of her blouse, aching for the feel of his skin on hers.

"Robin," He moaned her name as he as he pulled her body closer to his as her hands moved to the waistband of his trousers and undid his belt buckle.

"I know," She whispered sadly. "You want to look at the file." Rocking back on his hips, she could feel his need for her pressing into her thigh. "It's ok…really…"

"No it's not," Don replied as he pulled her mouth back towards him and dipped for her neck at the last moment. "This, here in my study…is on my bucket list. Escaping now is not an option."

"Thank God!" She moaned as he pulled her blouse open and dropped little kissed down her chest and into her cleavage.

"Why?" He looked up mischievously. "I'm doing all the work!"

She didn't have chance to reply however, because at last his mouth was sucking gently on her nipples through the smooth satin fabric of her bra and had her gasping as she chucked her head back and held onto his strong shoulders for support.

"Don't stop," She whispered huskily, her voice thick with desire as he quickly undid her bra and threw it across the room till it spectacularly landed on the top of the TV, conveniently covering the image of Lily's parents as Don and Elliott lead them from the morgue to the FBI interrogation rooms.

Robin was beautiful, and pausing for a moment, Don did stop as he noticed that she was wearing the combs that he had brought for her and had ultimately saved her life. "I know I brought you these," He told her as he reached up and pulled them slowly from her hair. "But you should always wear your hair down," He watched mesmerised as the tendrils of her soft brown hair fell down across her shoulders, contrasting with the pale beauty of her creamy skin. "God I love you," He whispered hoarsely as the pent up emotions of the last few weeks formed a lump in his throat.

"I love you too," She smiled back as she undid his shirt and kissed her way from his Adam's apple to his stomach, where a small trail of hair lead to the Promised Land. "So when do you recon we will actually have sex in our bed?" She joked happily as his hands massaged her humble breasts.

"When we're old and married," He smiled adventurously. "And…you know…when every room except ours is off limit due to kids!"

"Enough talking," She laughed happily as she took both his hands in hers and helped him to push her skirt slowly up her thighs to reveal her lack of underwear, she had discarded her knickers before entering the office…you know…just in case…. "You have a job to finish." She whispered seductively, her fingers raking down his chest and finishing their short journey in his pants.

"Shit!" He hissed as he practically came on the spot. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"The thought had crossed my mind once or twice," She grinned as she her hand grasped the full length of him and started to stroke slowly back and forth. "But I'd miss you too much!" Leaning forward, she captured his mouth with hers until rational thought was no longer possible and the pair raced to satisfy the other. Case zero would just have to wait till morning; fortunately Don had told the team that he would be late…very late.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11:**

***The Next Morning***

Opening her eyes, Robin grinned happily as memories of the night before in Don's study and then again in the shower came rushing back to her. Her body practically sighed with pleasure as she stretched out -her hand snaking its way over to her fiancée's side of the bed, only to find it disappointingly empty once again. Sitting up quickly, one hand holding the sheet over her small breasts to protect her modesty, Robin looked around the room anxiously. Don was definitely gone.

Flopping down frustrated, she couldn't help but hate the little niggling feeling that was working its way into her previously glowing heart. All she could think was that he had seen the file and decided that he just had to go into the office. She supposed it was nice of him to let her sleep in but she would have preferred to have woken up with him and then repeat last night a few more times. Robin couldn't remember the last time she had phoned in late or sick for sex…it certainly wasn't recently or with Don. He was as much of a workaholic as she was and sometimes that could be a bad thing.

How long she lay there naked under the cool sheets, she didn't know. She just hadn't the strength to spend yet another morning getting ready alone. Fortunately Don chose that moment to walk in the front door. Not wanting him to know that she had noticed that he had been missing, Robin closed her eyes again and feigned sleep as he gently called out her name. Unable to stop from smiling her relief, Robin listened intently as Don did his best to rush up the swirling staircase but the boot and crutches encumbered his movement somewhat. Until finally! He was standing in the open doorway of their master bedroom.

"Rob?" He called again, a little out of breath as he walked over to her side of the bed, sat down and planted a loud kiss on her startled lips. "I know your sleep smile, _that_ was a why aren't you kissing me already smile," He informed her seductively as he bent down and kissed her again, properly this time. "I'm glad you waited," He whispered in her ear, as her whole body came alive from the touch of his whispered words. The thin cotton sheet, still held tightly against her chest, did little to hide her sudden arousal. Don was dressed in casual jeans that had a large hole in one of the knees and were worn in all of the right places, a tight white shirt and his leather motorbike jacket, all beaten and worn from use. He looked like the original rebel without a cause, _perfectly delectable,_ She couldn't help but think as she sat up, letting the sheet glide down her body, to pool in her lap.

"I hope you didn't ride with your leg like that?" She asked him concerned as she slid her hands under the rough leather of his jacket onto his shoulders, massaging them briefly before shoving the jacket down his arms, pinning them to his side.

"I can't rely on Elliott to drive me everywhere," He croaked as her fingertips gently travelled down the hard length of his chest. He wondered if she could feel the beat of his heart through the shirt because to him it felt like it was ready to punch right through his chest. "Besides he might not have appreciated the pit stop," Don gestured to the bedside table with his chin, in no hurry to unpin his arms, whatever she was doing with her fingers just felt too damn good.

"Almond croissants," She smiled happily as she opened the bag and took a large bite. "I can't believe you drove across town for these!"

"It's my thank you for getting case zero, everyone at the office is excited," Don explained distractedly as his eyes followed the way she licked the soft pastry from her thumb and forefinger.

"So they're all mine?" She teased, ripping off a small chunk and raising it to her soft lips.

"If you keep eating them like that…sure," He laughed huskily as she gave him the bite at the last second and using the tip of his tongue licked the crumbs from her gentle fingers, his lips twitching with anticipation. He didn't have to wait long for her almond flavoured kiss, soon enough her lips were melded to his. Parting his lips with her tongue, Robin reached up and raked her fingers through his slightly long hair, pulling his body closer to hers till the air between them sizzled with expectant heat.

"So you stopped by the office?" She asked curiously as the two broke apart, out of breath and highly turned on. Freeing his arms from the jacket, Robin watched as it dropped satisfyingly to the floor, pooling at his feet. It was definitely time to get that top off of him…

"Briefly," He smiled knowingly as he reached down and slowly pulled the shirt over his head, in what he hoped was a seductive manor. "I needed them to go over it before they start interviewing the people on Charlie's list."

"Do you think he's in there?" She asked vulnerably as she got up and moved behind Don on the bed.

"It's Charlie, when have you ever known him to be wrong?" Don smiled as her arms wrapped around his chest, her hands on his pecks, her breasts pressed against his back and his brother quickly eradicated from his thoughts as Don watched her hands snake their way through his chest hair to the button of his jeans. "Rob," He sighed happily as she kissed a trail down his spine making him shiver with need for her.

"Are you sure you aren't needed back at the office?" She asked even though she didn't really want to. Instead Robin very much wanted to be selfish and demand that Don stay…but the case came first and she was surprised the find that she was actually ok with that, hopefully they would have the rest of their lives for moments like this one.

"I'm the SAIC, not the point man anymore," Don told her, taking her hands in his and interlocking their fingers. "I need to take a step back from the case every now and again. They don't need me breathing down their necks at the interviews and I'll get them to brief me and review the footage when I go in later."

"I'm glad you came back," She whispered between his shoulder blades after a few moments of silence, her face was hidden but Don could hear the happiness that his words had brought her and sighed with something more than desire or arousal. For the first time in weeks he felt content…

"I'm never leaving you," Don got up and knelt down in front of her, until she was towering over him. She looked beautiful naked in his bed, her hair mussed and yet somehow still perfect just like her and in that moment all he could think was: _I'm the luckiest man in the world._ "I love you Robin," He told her earnestly as reaching out, Don put his hands on her cheeks and pulled her face down to his so he could kiss her properly and was rewarded with a deep and satisfied moan as her fingers curled around his wrists.

"I love you too," She smiled down at him when they broke apart several minutes later, her hands moving to his shoulders for support.

"And!" He laughed ecstatically as he took her left hand in his and purposely kissed her ring finger. "I can't wait to make you my wife!"

"Don," She smiled happily, her naked body glowing in the mid-morning sunshine. "I've been thinking…maybe we should wait…you know, until our wedding night…to make it extra special?"

Cringing inside, Don tried to keep his disappointment from showing on his face. His cock was hard and aching with the need to be buried deep inside of her…and she wanted to wait…?

"Don," She grinned as he froze, unsure how to respond. "I'm kidding!"

"Thank God," He moaned happily as slipping from the bed, Robin kissed him passionately before shoving him backwards onto the rough carpet; it was his turn to get rug burns on his ass.

"I couldn't walk away right now if I tried!" She grinned as he lifted his hips to allow her to strip him of his trousers and pants, careful to avoid his sore ankle, until he was lying there, resting back on his elbows, as naked as she was. Sitting back on her heels, Robin drank in the image of his perfect body laid out willingly before her.

"Rob?" He couldn't help but moan, he was already close to coming and her hot gaze, dilated with lust, wasn't helping the matter.

Smiling crookedly, aware of the feelings that she was stirring in her fiancé, Robin crawled slowly across the distance between them until her body was inches from his. Straddling him, Robin bent down and kissed a path along his neck and shoulders, his hands raking their way through her hair as his hips moved up to meet hers. Sitting up and arching her back, Robin waited for the inevitable thrust of him inside of her and screamed out with pleasure as the fast rhythmic motion brought her closer and closer to release.

***Meanwhile…***

"Aren't you supposed to be fronting the interviews?" Colby asked Ian not meaning to sound bitter as he leaned back in the bar's tiny booth and took a long pull from his beer. It was mid-morning, but he had needed to blend; besides he was a little resentful that his friend and teammate had thought that he would need chaperoning and was taking his frustration out on his second beer.

"Think of me more as you're backup," Ian told Colby patiently through his ear piece. He was stationed at the end of the bar with his back to the door, a position he didn't like but used because he didn't want to be recognised. "This area can get pretty rough. Besides I need to be here in case my contact refuses to talk to you."

"Why not just meet him yourself then?" Colby replied confused, Ian hadn't exactly given him a reason for all the clandestine behaviour. "He is expecting you after all."

"Col…it's complicated ok, ah this is him now," Ian lifted his own beer and watched the U.S marshal in the mirror behind the bar as he walked through the door and headed straight for Colby's booth.

"You're not Ian," Was the tall man's quick assessment as he slid onto the booth's cracked but padded vinyl. "But he's around I assume?" Leaning back, the man crossed one leg over the other as he rested his head on the arm he propped up against the top of the bench. He had short cropped brown hair, a straight nose and square jaw. He was dressed plainly in a black long sleeved t-shirt, dark green combat trousers and military issue black boots. He had the air of ex-military about him, at Colby's guess he was Special Forces, probably from Ian's old unit.

"Something like that," Colby tried a friendly smile but the marshal was looking everywhere but at Colby and missed it completely. Whether he was checking the exits or searching for Ian, Colby couldn't tell. At first he couldn't believe that the marshal hadn't spotted Ian on the way in but agent Edgerton had quietly made his way to some dark hole in the bar's dimly lit corners, perfect for junkies and their suppliers to do business. "Do you have the information?"

"All business just like Ian, I like that," The strange man smiled crookedly, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. Amused, Colby watched the man that reminded him so much of Ian. He had a strange grace about him, like he was relaxing after work with a friend but his slightly straight back and watchful gaze gave him away. This man was definitely military trained Colby recognised the mannerisms; something that had taken him years to drop himself.

"You want a beer?" Colby asked politely, already gesturing to the barman as the marshal gave him a scrutinising once over, probably deciding whether Colby was trustworthy or not.

"Ok," He sighed finally, Colby seemingly had passed the man's little test…if there was one and he wasn't just being weird… "It wasn't easy but I found the file Ian requested buried deep in 'the stacks," The man whom Ian only referred to as Hunter, replied pulling an A4 file folded in half from a pocket pressed against his right thigh and held it out for Colby to take. "It is pretty old so you'll have to forgive the dust."

"Thomas Danby…this is definitely the one," Colby reached across the table for the file but Hunter wouldn't let go.

"Tell Ian the next time he needs a file to call someone else," Letting go of the file Hunter took his beer from the slutty waitress, his eyes never leaving Colby's despite her flashing him a good view down her top. "I hunt the top and most dangerous fugitives in the county; I have better things to do than run his errands because he's too impatient to go through proper channels."

"Four girls have died and more will follow if we don't stop this guy," Colby replied incredulously as he opened the file to check everything was there. "Forgive us if we don't want to wait months for someone in your office to finally get back to us."

"It wouldn't take that long…but I can understand why he would want the information today and not next week…it says in there that Danby managed to give his marshals the slip. He was never found but his name was burned and put on every wanted list in the country. We had a few sightings but…then a whole lot of nothing. I guess people move on very quickly, especially in the press, even as far back as ten years ago." Pausing for a moment, Hunter took a moment to size Colby up one last time before deciding to say what was really on his mind. "How is he?"

"Danby?"

"No…Ian."

Confused, Colby took a long drag from his beer to decide what to say next. He knew that Ian was listening in on the other end but had been mysteriously silent for the whole exchange. There was something in the way Hunter was looking away sheepishly, and the creeping red blush crawling up his neck that had Colby wondering if Ian and this Hunter had been intimate at some stage? Hunter's concern definitely looked more like that of a lover than that of a brother. It wasn't exactly a shock to Colby either. Ian had come out to him a couple of years back after the whole double agent stuff came out and it seemed like Ian was his only friend left. He was starting to understand why Ian had asked him here instead of coming alone. Ian wasn't one to ask for help or support but he did need it and Colby was only too happy to oblige.

"Ian is…Ian," Colby replied unsure of how else to put it. Was he worried about him? Sure, he had been unnaturally quiet ever since he had been back. Even for Ian, a man of so few words…but Colby had been there, he understood better than anyone else on the team what Afghanistan and warfare could do to a man…he understood that feeling of selling a piece of your soul a bit at a time to keep the ones you love safe.

"Tell Ian I'm sorry about Afghanistan…it was bad Intel given by an old friend…Ian isn't omniscient even if he does try to be. He couldn't have known Hawk had turned…their deaths were not Ian's fault and that scuffle in DC, tell him…tell him it's been taken care of," Hunter looked pointedly at Colby at this; it was a look that left Colby feeling cold. Now more than ever he couldn't help but wonder who this man was or had been to Ian.

"Thank you for the information," Colby nodded, changing the subject back to safer ground. "We appreciate it…really."

"Yeah, ok…well…bye," Hunter downed his beer, wiped his hand across his mouth and stood up. "I…um…Agent…don't tell him what I said before…about him not calling me. If he does need me again then well…just tell him I'm there for him…no matter what." Without looking back, Hunter about turned and left the bar, his empty seat taken seconds later by a conflicted Ian, which considering Ian was usually a hard read, left Colby even more concerned than he was before.

"What," Colby asked Ian dramatically. "Was all that about?"

"I'd prefer it if we don't get into it right now…" Ian looked down at his watch impatiently. "We should get that file back to the office; maybe it has something in there that can help us locate Danby now."

"I doubt it, but ok," Colby nodded as he finished his beer.

"I doubt it too but at least we'll be back in time to help with the second half of the interviews. Don's coming in later to be briefed so we'd best be ready."

"Ok, but we're going to talk about whatever that was when the case is over." Colby reached his hand out and gave Ian's arm a brief squeeze.

"Ok," Ian nodded as he slid his arm away, got up and abandoning his beer headed straight for the exit. _That was Ian Edgerton,_ Colby mused to himself, _never wastes a second._

***Back at FBI Headquarters***

Sitting in the darkened observation room between the two interrogation suites, Will watched impressed as Ian talked to the last suspect on their excruciatingly long list of suspects. It was going well though. They had managed to eliminate several suspects due to alibis and the remaining few would be put under surveillance. Will still wasn't sure how much he trusted Charlie's 'Everything is Maths' way of solving crime or that they had found their killer in Charlie's list of suspects but his track record at the bureau did tell Will everything he needed to know…for now. That and Ian trusted him…

Getting up, Will knocked on the glass to let Ian know that they had confirmed the last suspect's alibi and to wrap up the interview, which Ian managed with amazing speed and grace. Will wasn't completely sure what it was, there was just something about Ian and the way he carried himself that got people to trust him and let them know that they were safe in his presence. Maybe it had something to do with his time spent in the army, all Will knew was if you could bottle whatever 'it' was, he would definitely buy it.

Fresh from the academy and then given the mission to profile such a high profile serial killer on his first official case…well it could either make his career or fuck up it up before it had even started…that is, if he got it wrong and told them to discard the killer from their search and let another girl die because he was too green…it was partly why Will was sweating even though he was sat in a perfectly air conditioned room. If he was perfectly honest, a small part of him didn't feel ready, not that he would ever let that stop him. Don had faith and that was all Will needed to keep going for the time being.

"Who's next?" Ian asked through the glass after walking their suspect to the door.

"No one," Will replied as he pressed down on the little button that allowed for two-way communication. "He has an alibi for at least three of the murders, so despite having an eighty-eight per cent chance according to Charlie's equation; Mr Miller is in the clear."

"Is that scepticism I hear Agent Chase?" Ian smiled as he propped himself up on the metal table, his feet resting on the padded chair.

"A healthy amount," Will revealed after a moment's hesitation. Despite all his psychology lessons and FBI training, he still found the mysterious Agent Edgerton hard to read, an open book he was not. If Will was pressed to describe Ian as a book, he would definitely choose a locked diary or a top secret classified document.

"That's ok," Ian smiled, much to Will's relief. "I've come to accept that I don't always understand the professor's voodoo either, but that doesn't mean I've ever known him to be wrong. I've gambled my life and this team's on his maths before…I've never lost yet." If Will wasn't mistaken, he thought he might sense a note of pride in Edgerton's tone.

"Voodoo?" Will laughed in reply; somehow it made Ian that bit more human…Will couldn't explain it any other way, just that Ian's smile had a way of putting you at ease…not in a gay way…Will just couldn't help but want to be just like him and as good an agent.

"Right, show time," Ian told Will after receiving a text from Brian, informing him that Don had arrived. Jumping off the table, Ian gestured for Will to pack up and meet him in the bullpen.

***Break***

"Charlie," Ian smiled nervously as he made his way to the back of the empty bullpen to where Charlie was gesturing at the seat next to him. They hadn't talked since Ian had told Charlie that he was going to fight for them two nights ago. Sure, they had seen each other at the briefing the day after but they hadn't had a chance to _talk._ Not knowing where he stood with Charlie was killing him. Had anything changed? From Charlie's expression, something definitely had…

"You should come over tonight," Charlie leaned over and whispered close to Ian's ear. "We need to talk…"

Never before in the history of the world have the words 'we need to talk' ever been followed by anything good, so folding his shaking hands in his lap, Ian looked down and away disappointed, trying his hardest to keep his distress from showing on his face. He hadn't expected Charlie to leave his wife for him; throwing himself out there had been a last ditch effort on his part and he had to admit he felt more than a little disappointed…in truth he was devastated. Unrequited love was the worst kind. "It's ok Charlie," Ian replied with more courage than he felt, his tone normal even though his heartbeats were irregular. "I get the hint and I respect your decision but I'd rather skip 'the talk' if you don't mind."

"What are you talking about?" Charlie asked confused, certain that he had missed a step somewhere.

"I wish both you and Amita every chance at happiness in the future. You deserve it…"

"…Ian," Charlie smiled as he reached out and turned Ian's face back to his. "I asked Amita for a divorce two nights ago and said goodbye to her at the terminal this morning. She should be halfway to England by now."

"You really did it?" Ian frowned at Charlie, unsure what he was hearing could really be true and too afraid to find out that it wasn't.

"I want you to come over tonight so that we can talk about us and where to go from here," Charlie replied, taking Ian's hand in his, Ian's was excitingly rough to the touch.

"Do you think that's wise at your place?" Ian asked as his long slender fingers entwined with Charlie's. He had piano players' fingers and Charlie swallowed hard as Ian's thumb stroked his wrist, sending little tingles up his arm. "What about your dad?"

"He said he's cool with us, besides he's going out tonight. You could come on over after if you'd prefer?" Charlie was doing his best to keep his own nervousness from his tone but Ian knew him too well. This was really important to him and Ian didn't want to hurt him…

"It's one thing to say your cool with something and then another completely to have it shoved in your face hours after your daughter in law's just left…" Ian wasn't trying to be difficult, just realistic. He wanted to make sure Charlie had thought it through properly.

"We've wasted enough time Ian," Charlie reached out and stroked Ian's slightly stubbled cheek. "Dad understands that. Besides…_we've wasted too much time already_." He repeated meaningfully, a little smile playing at the corners of his lips. He liked the scratch of Ian's rough stubble beneath his fingers. "Do you remember what you said to me the first time we met?"

"I told you that the sniper fired from a slightly different location from where you suggested...why?"

"What you actually said was: 'but yours was a good guess too."

"Right and you told me it was more of an estimate," Ian smiled fondly. Ian had known then that Charlie was something special. Ian had only acted the way he had to try and impress him. For some reason it had mattered what the strange professor had thought of him and it hadn't been a feeling that Ian was used to or liked having.

"Ian I felt it then and I still feel it now. We had a weird kind of chemistry. One minute I really hated you and then the next I really admired you! You challenged me and the work that I was doing for the FBI and at the same time…all I wanted to do was impress you and then kiss you…and not necessarily in that order… Ian you challenged me to think about the human element and factor it into my future equations. Sometimes I spend too much time in my head, in my work and in my equations. I think it's time we finally did something about this…don't you?"

"Ok then," Ian smiled ruefully. "In that case I'll see you at eight…at yours," Ian leaned in and brushed his lips with Charlie's, kissing him quickly and teasingly before anyone could walk in and ruin the moment. The others would be there soon, and Ian really needed to focus his thoughts before bringing Don up to speed on the case.

"You'll be fine," Charlie whispered to Ian, reading his mind as Liz, Nikki, Colby, Brian, Elliott and Will entered the room.

Nodding, without really listening, Ian watched as Don and Nick came in seconds later, laughing about something or other. Don was in an uncharacteristically good mood and Ian suspected it had something to do with a morning off with a certain lawyer. "Yeah?" Ian mumbled one hand on the file from Hunter and his other still holding Charlie's under the table.

"Yeah," Charlie grinned. "I've never seen the great agent Edgerton fail at anything!"

"There's a first time for everything," Ian grumbled as he let go of Charlie's hand before joining Don and Nick at the front of the room, it was time to brief the team.

***Break***

"Ian," Don smiled as Ian approached him and Nick at the front of the room. "How did the interviews go?"

"Promising," Ian nodded as he held out a copy of the tapes for Don to watch later. "We've managed to eliminate nine people from Charlie's list. Brian is working with Captain Brown to get the last six back under surveillance."

"Tell us about the six," Nick requested as he looked over Don's shoulder at the report Will had passed him when they had first entered the room.

"Paul Jenison, Arthur Wu, James Sanders, Emilio Sanchez, Doug Reynolds and Ray Fisher," Will replied from behind as he loaded the image of each suspect on the board. None of them have alibis and each one failed the standard background check."

"How so?" Don asked confused. It was strange to have six people in the one case fail a standard background check. He knew that Matt Li was better and more through than most but…six? He needed to have a word to the mayor about the people the government were hiring these days.

"Well we believe that Sanchez and Wu are illegals working under fake names. As for Fisher and Jenison both have long rap sheets and are currently working for the garden service as community service. Both are only children so don't fit with case zero, but let's assume that case zero is just a huge coincidence…no alibi and priors means they stay on the list and under surveillance until we can eliminate them properly. Sanders basically don't exist on paper at all so we are assuming it's a false identity. As for Reynolds, he apparently died ten years ago so we are looking at possible identity theft." Ian folded his arms and perched on the computer desk to the left of the interactive board.

"Anything stand out in their interviews?" Colby wondered curiously. After his and Ian's trip to meet the elusive Hunter, he had asked Ian to drop him off at the court house to check in on the Judge Tompkins trial, therefore missing the second half of interviews.

"Sanchez and Wu just came across worried, possibly because they thought we were going to report them for being in the country illegally. They actually seemed more relaxed when they were told that they were there about the dead girls." Brian, who had been helping Will in the observation room to assess the suspects, filled Colby in from his seat near the middle of the room.

"Ok so for the time being they are at the bottom of the suspect pool," Don told the room in general. "What about the other four?"

"Like I said," Ian got up and pointed at the pictures for Ray Fisher and Paul Jenison, "These two only fit if case zero isn't in fact case zero."

"Sanders was interestingly freaked out by the ghost flower," Will added as he joined Ian at the board. Reading aloud from his notes he told them: "The flower was rumoured to have similar properties to the black spot used by sailors and pirates, that centuries ago the flower was used to mark someone out for death."

"That's right," Ian nodded thoughtfully. "He wouldn't finish the interview until we had removed them from the room. When I asked why he planted them in the gardens he said that it was the 'landscapers' choice but the landscaper claimed that he would never have planted a desert flower in his gardens. Whoever the killer is must have…perhaps Sanders was throwing us off of him by giving up the landscaper? Who has an alibi for all the murders by the way."

"And Reynolds?" Charlie asked eagerly from the back. This was progress of a kind. It sounded like it was really down to two guys.

"He seemed more interested in Ian than the case," Will frowned thoughtfully.

"How so?" Don asked curiously as he sat forward until his elbows were resting on his knees.

"He was curious about the flowers, asked if I knew what they were. I told him and he was curious about my knowledge of vegetation," Ian shrugged noncommittally. "To be honest he seemed a little simple. He had trouble focusing on the questions asked and barely glanced at the pictures put before him. If it wasn't for his lack of alibi, I would tell you to cut him from the search."

"I want to be sure he's not just a fantastic actor fist," Will replied slightly defensively. It was true he was new to all this but that meant he had to be extra cautious not to make mistakes. "I know that your gut tells you to cut him loose," Will looked down, biting his bottom lip in thought. "But it doesn't hurt to check him out for a couple days first…does it?"

"Will's right," Don frowned thoughtfully. "It seems a little suspect that he avoided questioning. But I trust Ian's gut almost as much as my own. Keep him under surveillance with the others for the time being. We'll review everyone again in a week's time. We can cut him loose then."

"Ok," Nick replied getting up and clapping his hands together. "Brian I want you and Elliott running point with the surveillance. Coordinate with your captain and stay on them. You can report your findings to Don each morning. The LA child Snatcher should be trawling for a new victim. It's possible he already has one in mind. So get that surveillance in place. As soon as he approaches his victim we'll take him down. We're close folks so keep it up!" Nick told them all before sweeping out of the meeting room without as much as a simple goodbye.

"Don," Ian called Don back when it looked like he was about to follow the AD. "I have the marshal's report on Danby, looks like he was given the name Thomas Larke and a place in Seattle. Two months later he gives his marshals the slip and was never seen again. There was one sighting at an airport so it was suspected he fled the country but that seems unlikely doesn't it?"

"It does," Don agreed as he took a copy of the file to read later. "How did you get this? Marshals were giving me the run around ever since Robin gave me the unsealed case file. Something about finding a file in 'the stacks' that's ten years old, being like trying to find a person that doesn't want to be found in New York City…"

"I have friends everywhere," Ian smiled wolfishly as he watched Charlie leave; he had a few hours to kill before eight. "And my guy has a knack for finding things, especially people that don't want to be found in New York City. Plus! I have some thoughts about retracing Danby/Larke's steps…but they can wait until the morning."

"Yes, definitely," Don smiled a small secretive smile as he looked at the time on his watch. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Bye," Ian replied as he made his own way home for a quick shower and change of clothes. He knew it sounded very girly, but he wanted to look his best for Charlie and he still smelt of smoke from the bar this morning. Distracted to his surroundings for once, Ian didn't see the white van following three cars behind him on his way home or again on his way to Charlie's.


	12. Chapter 12

Hey guys,

This is just a quick note to apologise about the long delay in update. I must have rewritten this chapter three times to get to this version, which I am finally happy with!

It was the first writer's block I've had for this story, which was weird because I actually have the end planned out to within an inch of its life. I guess it was just that annoying moment when you know what you want to say but don't know how to say it…

I am going through a rough time personally at the moment, so am immensely grateful for your continued support, reviewing and most importantly reading.

It could be some time before the next update so as always I hope that you enjoy this latest instalment and will do my best to get the next chapter to you when I can.

-Colby'sGirl19 x

**Chapter 12:**

***One Week Later***

Pulling back, a little dazed from the intensity of the kiss, Ian smiled happily down at Charlie as adrenalin coursed through his body making his heart race and his breathing shallow. He felt electric as Charlie's soft fingers burned a path down the hard planes of his body. It was a long time since he had felt half as good as he did right then, which was why he was having such a hard time trying to do the right thing.

"Charlie…" Ian groaned as Charlie's gaze drifted from his bruised lips to his stubbled jaw and neck, to the dog tags hanging loosely around his neck besides a fresh looking red scar just below his left clavicle, yet another souvenir of Afghanistan. Before Ian could stop him, Charlie pushed the lapels of his shirt aside for a better look before dipping his head and kissing Ian on his latest bullet wound.

"Charlie wait," Ian whispered gruffly, his voice strained with need.

"Wait? Why? I didn't hurt you did I?" Charlie asked concerned as Ian's fingers curled around Charlie's wrists and stopped them in the process of undoing his belt buckle.

"No. It's just that it's all moving a little fast," Ian replied, sitting back as he gently pushed Charlie away.

"Fast?" Charlie asked bewildered, realising that Ian wasn't playing. Scrambling to sit up properly Charlie turned to face Ian confused.

"Yeah fast," Ian looked away guiltily. "Look Charlie…"

"What?" Charlie leaned forward, his mouth parted inches from Ian's as his hand slid from Ian's knee to thigh.

"I just want to slow things down a little. Hangout _outside_ of work, do things together…get to know each other better…is that so wrong?" Ian placed his hand on top of Charlie's stopping it in its slow, playful journey north.

"I thought that was what we are doing," Charlie arched his eyebrow suggestively before brushing his lips teasingly against Ian's.

"Charlie, I'm serious," Ian replied a little breathily when Charlie was done and started re-buttoning his shirt to make his point.

"I know," Charlie sat back admitting defeat. "But Ian, we've been friends for over six years. I think we know each other pretty well by now."

"I just…I want to do this right. Ok maybe we do know what's important already but I want to know the little things as well. I want to go to see bad movies and drink coffee. I want to debate philosophy and literature…this is technically only our second date…I don't want to skip steps and have it fail because we rushed it."

"I get that ok and trust me, I want all that too. It's just…you already know me better than I know you. I'm an open book Ian. I guess what I'm saying is…how am I supposed to get to know you better when half your life is classified and you refuse to talk about the rest?"

"That's a fair point. Ok, how about this? I give you twenty questions now and the rest…will come in time. Does that sound reasonable?"

"Depends, will you promise to answer them all? However…uncomfortable they may be?" Charlie asked as he settled back against the cushions and waited for Ian's reply.

"Within reason," Ian nodded as he reached for his beer and took a long pull before carrying on. "But bear in mind like you said…half _is_ classified. I'll answer what I can."

"That's fair," Charlie agreed as he watched Ian fiddle with the label on his beer unable to meet Charlie's eyes. He could tell that Ian was nervous; it was a rare thing for him to show any emotion let alone vulnerability and Charlie instantly wished they could just go back to making out. "I guess my first question is why you're giving up hunting…" Charlie watched mesmerised as Ian finished peeling the label from the bottle and tried to stick it back down only to have it curl at the edges.

In truth he didn't want an answer to his question. Ian giving up hunting meant he wouldn't leave again and this time he and Charlie could finally give their relationship a proper chance. Charlie just couldn't stop the little nagging voice in the back of his head that whispered in the early hours of the morning and told him that Ian would never be happy working in an office twenty-four-seven. He was a hunter and whilst Charlie personally didn't understand the appeal, he knew that he wanted Ian to be happy. His fear was that eventually Ian would come to realise that he was giving it all up for the wrong reasons and resent him for it.

"I'm _tired_ Charlie," Ian answered after a moment of silence had passed. "I'm just so…tired. I've been hunting all my life, even as a child. From the age of five, it's been one disappointment after another. People let you down. That's what I learnt. People let you down. I guess hunting for me means freedom, the chance to live a solitary life free of responsibilities and people. Kevin and the army…they taught me to trust again. They gave me a surrogate family. I had a role to play and they showed me how to use my anger productively. They made me who I am. They made '_the legend'_ so to speak. So when I came out of the Army, I joined the FBI as a sniper expert. I told you once that the 'thing about snipers _is_ that we _love it'_ and it's true…there is no other feeling in this world like the one I get behind the scope of a rifle. The FBI gave me an opportunity to do what I love and I was lucky enough to turn it into a career. I can still use a rifle here in LA. Not as often but if I recall my expertise has been needed around here from time to time. Also…everything changed when I went back to Afghanistan. I didn't want to leave you Charlie. They forced me to go and I nearly lost you because of it. I don't want to lose you again."

"You won't. Besides, I find it hard to believe that anyone could tell the great Ian Edgerton what to do," Charlie replied, not meaning to sound bitter but it was Ian announcing that he was leaving again that had been the catalyst for Charlie asking Amita to marry him. He knew now how stupid that was and wished desperately that he could go back in time and change it. It's just…Ian's leaving had always been a massive source of insecurity for him. He just wished that he could say that his proposal hadn't been to spite Ian for leaving but he'd be lying and he didn't like what that said about him.

"They didn't really give me a choice Charlie, I told you that," Ian frowned as the anger he had been repressing for the last couple of months burned close to the surface.

"Everyone has a choice Ian, they just don't always make the right one," Charlie stated calmly. A lot calmer than he felt! He had heard 'they didn't give me a choice' before, this time he wanted a proper answer.

"Well this _was_ the right choice," Ian bit back stubbornly, before sighing his regret. "Ok Charlie. I promised to answer your questions, however…uncomfortable. So here's the unedited version. The CIA told me that if I turned them down they would go to the number one shot in America…even if he wasn't as skilled a hunter…and older…"

"…Ok?"

"Do you know who is number one shot in America is Charlie?" Ian asked fiddling with the label on his beer again.

"Lee Harvey Oswald?" Charlie joked but wished he hadn't when he saw the tight little smile that Ian gave him. He looked conflicted and Charlie hated seeing him in pain. "No I don't," He replied properly when Ian didn't enlighten him.

"Kevin Edgerton, Charlie…my dad is the number one shot in America. I didn't want him to know that they had threatened to ask him. He would have gone, sacrificing his happiness for mine the way he always has…and I didn't tell _you_ because I didn't want anyone to know that I was going because of him. I'm not one for opening up, you know this already…and I guess I didn't tell you because I was punishing you for never leaving Amita and standing up for us. That was selfish of me but my motives for going were pure. I did it out of love and loyalty to a man who gave me everything and never asked for anything in return…"

"Oh…"

"Yeah…oh," Ian replied, setting the empty beer down on the coffee table with an angry thud. "Look Charlie. I love you…ok? I really do. But he's my _dad_."

"Ian…"

"Did you know he also fought for our country?"

"No."

"Yeah, in Vietnam…there was no way I was letting him add Afghanistan to his CV, not after how fucked up he was after Vietnam! When I met him…the war changes you Charlie. Ok? So yeah…I went, even though I wanted to stay in LA with you. I went and for the first time they made me resent what I had become. Shit went down out there that I couldn't tell you even if I wanted to and I don't. I guess what I am trying to say is…that my time in Afghanistan finally made me realise that there are some things in this life that are more important to me than hunting…"

"But Ian…"

"No Charlie, I'm not going to regret giving it up," Ian smiled, taking Charlie's hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I found what I've been hunting for all these years. I have a family and I have you…it's enough. I mean it." Ian squeezed again when Charlie still looked doubtful. "Next question?" Ian asked, the subject of hunting and Afghanistan clearly closed.

"I don't know…" Charlie looked searchingly at Ian, biting his lip in uncertainty.

"Yes you do…ask," Ian smiled bravely, a lot bolder than he felt.

Slipping his hand from Ian's grasp, Charlie got up and moved away from the comfort of the couch. The cold air attacked his bare chest where his shirt still hung open. Ian was right. He did know what he wanted to ask he just too afraid to ask it. Getting up as well, Ian stood behind Charlie and waited for him to turn around.

Unable to keep his back to Ian any longer, Charlie turned and was alarmed to see how close Ian had gotten. His body radiated heat and Charlie wanted nothing more than to sink into the solid heat of Ian's embrace and stay there forever. Reaching his hand out, Ian stroked Charlie's cheek before slipping it up into the soft curls of his hair and pulled Charlie's body towards his until their foreheads were touching. "Ask it," Ian whispered, the warmth of his breath tickling Charlie's skin, making his body shiver with greed for the touch of him.

"Ok," Charlie took a large swallow to try and clear his throat. "I want to know about 2007-8."

"Oh," Stepping back like he had been slapped, Charlie watched as Ian folded his arms and perched on the arm of the sofa. For a minute he thought that Ian might refuse to answer and then he asked, "Ok. What do you want to know?"

"Everything," Charlie stated simply. "I want to know why you cut me out…what you did in that time…what made you come back?"

"I cut you out because I got your email telling me you only wanted to be friends and I'll admit…it hurt to read ok?"

"No. Not ok. Amita sent the email…I knew nothing about it until recently," Charlie crossed his own arms and rested his shoulder against the mantel piece.

"Ah…well when you have a hacker for a girlfriend…"

"Yeah…"

"I'm sorry Charlie…I didn't realise. I should have fought sooner but you have to admit…you weren't ready for this back then."

"I was ready," Charlie replied firmly as he looked Ian in the eye to make sure he understood. I was leaving Amita. It's why she sent the email."

"Oh…"

"Look, its ok Ian…it's not like it could be changed now even if we tried. It's just; it was the loneliest and longest year of my life. Where were you?"

"I was in DC."

"DC? Why?"

"After leaving the army the CIA approached me to become a weapons instructor at Langley. Every year I turned them down. It was the inspiration behind my stint at Quantico though. I enjoy teaching and Quantico is a lot closer to home. Anyway…let's just say that Amita's email came half way through their annual pitch. I guess I accepted because I figured 'why not?' As far as I knew you just wanted to be friends…the thought of being around you but not _with_ you…I guess back then I didn't know what to do with that. Plus my teaching position sometimes extended to the odd field mission and at the same time I got to keep my position in the bureau as my cover. It seemed like a win, win."

"So you were a CIA instructor…pretending to be a FBI instructor? Seriously?"

"Colby worked as a counter intelligence agent for two years to find a leak in the Department of Justice…it happens. Besides, my whole life has been about living out of a back pack, always on the road and always traveling from one department to the other, hunting fugitives and consulting where necessary. It's a lot less noticeable when I disappear for months at a time and it wasn't like I was there longer than a year. At the time it had seemed like the logical next step forwards in my career. That and Nate made a very different and _interesting_ pitch…"

"Nate?" Charlie asked curiously, a small bubble of jealousy forming at the little smile that had pulled at the corners of Ian's sensuous mouth at the mention of Nate's name.

"Nathanial Hunter. He retired from the agency a year after I did. We did the odd mission together. He's a U.S Marshal now, and the one who got us the file on Danby's new identity. Not that it's helped much. I've been narrowing the search down and at the moment everything seems to be pointing back to LA, if you ignore the siting at the airport that is…what?"

"Were you and Nate and item?" Charlie knew he was being ridiculous…he just hated the thought of Ian with anyone else. How Ian had managed to pretend to be ok with Amita, Charlie didn't know.

"I'm not a monk Charlie and I'm definitely not a virgin," Ian replied suddenly serious. "Let's just say he was my rebound. We dated for a year, even tried living together but it didn't last. I wanted to go to the agency and make the relationship official. Nate wasn't ready to come out of the closet. It's ancient history now."

"But you're still in contact?"

"We stayed friends…why?"

"No reason…"

"Charlie?"

"And you saw him recently?" Charlie hated himself for asking.

"No. I knew he'd want to talk about Afghanistan and the trial in DC. I didn't want to so I had Colby meet him instead, but we are friends and we do still talk. Charlie you know you have _nothing_ to be jealous of. Don't you?"

"I don't?" Charlie crossed his arms stubbornly; it was too late to turn back now.

"No, because he ended it with me. Ok? He knew I was in love with someone else and he wasn't ready to come out so he ended it. In fact it was him that encouraged me to come back here to you. So really you should be grateful to him!"

"I am," Charlie went over to Ian and took his hands in his and held them against his bare chest. "And I love you too," Charlie smiled, it wasn't like he could do anything about Ian's past and he didn't like being a hypocrite what with his and Amita's relationship. "Enough questions…I don't need to know the rest tonight. All I need is to know that you'll never leave me and like you said…the rest will come." Charlie smiled as he put Ian's arms around his waist and pressed his body against the hard length of Ian's.

"Are you sure?" Ian whispered against Charlie's ear as he rested his chin on Charlie's shoulder, his hands slipping to the underside of Charlie's shirt and stoked the small of Charlie's back.

"Yes," Charlie grinned before kissing Ian passionately on the mouth as his fingers toyed with the buttons on Ian's shirt.

"Charlie, I still want to wait," Ian said hoarsely in reply as he got up and put some distance between himself and Charlie's torturous fingers.

"Why? It can't be about getting to know one another better…so what's the real reason?"

"Charlie…you've never been with a man before…it's different. I don't want the first time to be on my dad's couch."

"Then let's go to your room," Charlie smiled, like the solution was obvious.

"This _is_ my room. When Kev took me in, I told him I wouldn't be staying long and that the couch would be fine. I didn't want him to sell the house that he picked out with his wife so that I could have my own room. Let just say I've grown very accustomed to having as few possessions as possible and sleeping rough. Besides, the couch is more comfortable than you would think!"

"Ok," Charlie smiled understandably and a little relieved. He thought he would be disappointed. He'd had quite a few fantasies about him and Ian over the years. But Ian was right, the first time needed to be special and this definitely wasn't. "Then how about we just snuggle up on your 'bed' and watch one of those bad movies you were raving about?"

"I'll get the coffee whilst you pick," Ian smiled contentedly back and in that moment chose to lose himself in Charlie's smile and the warmth of his soft body pressed against his hard one.

For at least tonight he could pretend that they were just two people enjoying the other's company devoid of missing girls and serial killers. He could also almost forget about the amount of crank calls he had gotten recently and the creepy breathing that was usually on the other end... Likewise, he could also almost forget about the fact that he was pretty sure someone had broken into his house whilst he was at work this morning, despite there being nothing missing…

He chose instead to worry about all of that in the morning and the cold harsh light of day. It wasn't like there was anything he could do right that minute and Charlie felt too good in his arms. So for the first time in his life, Ian Edgerton went against every instinct and his training and decided instead to enjoy a movie with his boyfriend and worry about all of that other stuff tomorrow.

***Tomorrow***

"Don, the matter is not up for discussion," Assistant Director Nick Callaghan frowned at his oldest friend as he gestured for him to follow him into the nineteenth level's large bull pen and out of the crowded hallway.

"It's only been a week," Don implored desperately once he had managed to limp his way inside; "We haven't given the surveillance nearly enough time!"

"We have no evidence to have these men watched," Nick sighed frustrated. He was starting to rue the day that he had picked up Don's call and agreed to help him take over the case. He hadn't been the AD long and he was beginning to think that the LA Child Snatcher case was going to be the death of his career. He needed results and Don's team simply wasn't producing any. Another girl had died and the director was beginning to take an interest. It was never a good thing when the director took and interest, especially when that interest was hidden behind the ruse of a friendly round of golf. "I'm sorry Don, but they've already been cut loose.

"You went over my head and made the call already?" Don asked shocked, a hint of betrayal and accusation in his tone. Nick was sorry about that, but what could he do? It wasn't Don being threatened at the eighteenth hole of his local country club. "I get it; you don't trust Charlie's equation? You think he's wrong."

"No, what I think is that your brother's equation won't stand up in court when we're all being sued for breach of human rights and privacy laws!" Nick spat back, barely holding onto his temper. They may have gone to Quantico together, but Nick was Don's superior and it was time Don remembered that they may be best friends but Nick was also his boss. The only reason Nick sat in the AD chair and Don the SAIC one was because Nick was a good read of people and he was nothing short of ruthless when he wanted something. Unfortunately it also meant he had to play by the rules and worry about boring things such as budgets and lawsuits against the department, which happened more frequently than you would think. Don just couldn't see the pressure that he was under. "You have no solid evidence!" Nick told Don forcefully.

"We haven't had a lick of solid evidence the whole case, but I'm telling you now, either Sanders or Reynolds killed those girls and you just stopped our only way to prove it! One of them is Thomas Danby I just know it!"

"How _can_ you know that? What evidence do you have?"

"I just do ok!"

"What," Nick scoffed as he swept the bottom of his tan suit jacket behind him and put his hands on his hips with contempt. "Is your spider sense tingling?"

"He's right Don," Ian piped up from behind his soon to be boss's shoulder causing the two men to jump with fright before turning around with equal parts confusion and embarrassment. "DNA's back from Lily's jacket, it's a match to Abigail; however, neither Sanders nor Reynolds is a familial match…they can't be her brother. They can't be Thomas Danby."

"That can't be right!" Don staggered over to the table to get a look at the file Ian slid across to him, ignoring the fact that Ian had been sitting there the entire time unbeknownst to either Don or Nick. Ian was right though; there was no match between Abigail and either of their suspects. "But Charlie's never wrong! There has to be an explanation!"

"My thoughts exactly," Ian smiled a small cat like smile at Don causing Nick to shiver. He was not a fan of Agent Edgerton. He couldn't put his finger on the reason why…Ian just reminded Nick of a hawk or a falcon. Birds of prey hunt alone, with no allegiance to anyone or anything. They have no pack. They live solitary lives merely tolerating those around them. Though Ian often looked relaxed and unfazed by his surroundings, in truth Nick knew that the agent was silently assessing everything and every_one_, his body coiled tightly like a spring, always poised and always ready for action. They called it 'Hypervigilance'. Something he had probably learnt in Afghanistan and used now when hunting fugitives. When he did engage people it was often with a cool calm vacant expression that was normally flat and void of emotion. He was a hard read, a loose cannon and Nick didn't like loose cannons in his department, mainly because he didn't like surprises, never had.

"What do you propose Agent Edgerton?" Nick gritted his teeth as Ian's gaze flickered from Don's to his. Ian's smile wasn't friendly.

"My search and the marshals reports leads me to believe that Danby left protective services and headed straight for LA," Ian leaned back in his chair and placed both feet insolently on the table before him. "He used his cover ID Thomas Larke right up until he reached LA and then…it's as if Thomas Larke never existed. There is no trail for Larke or Danby."

"So he changed his name again…so what?" Nick asked impatiently. He didn't have all day to wait for Ian to "Get to the point!"

"I think he was coming back to LA for a reason. He didn't change his name again until he got here which suggests that he was told to by whoever he was meeting." Ian smiled at the little vein throbbing in the middle of Nick's forehead. He didn't care for Nick much either, or so it seemed.

"Like whom?" Don asked as he tried to break the tension between his two friends.

"The only family he had left. I'll bet my rifle he went to see his mother and that is where we should look next."

"That's your suggestion? Bug the high powered politician about the son she disowned twenty years ago? What makes you think she'll even agree to see you?" Nick frowned despairingly. _Was he really the only one left with any sense?_

"Look," Ian replied seriously as he removed his feet from the desk and stood up using his extra five inches to intimidate the AD whom he thought looked ridiculous in that suit. "We've just about covered this case from every angle. We've gone forwards and backwards so many times as we make potential case breaking finds only to have them come back and prove futile in stopping or identifying our suspect. I am merely suggesting that we now go sideways."

"It's worth a shot," Don nodded his agreement. "Besides I think I have an in…"

"What do you say?" Ian asked Nick but Nick quickly realised it was purely an illusion of having a choice. The steely grit and determination in the two men told Nick that they were going whatever he said and almost told them no out of spite. If it hadn't been for Ian's words ringing true in his ears he would have torn them both a new one for the perceived slight. He was the AD after all! Instead he nodded his consent. He needed this case wrapped up and put to bed already. "Ok, but if you both get me in trouble with the mayor's office I will have you working the beat for a month! Yes, I can do that!"

"I love how he thinks that's a punishment," Ian laughed as Nick stormed from the bull pen, leaving Don and Ian alone.

"Speak for yourself!" Don grimaced with feeling. "Walking is Charlie's hobby, not mine!"

"Well then, we'd best behave ourselves!" Ian winked as he moved over to the door and held it open for Don.

"I'm always on my best behaviour," Don smiled wickedly. This case was starting to drag and he wanted answers already. It didn't matter if Danby had visited his mother or not, she could provide valuable insight on his character. Anything at this stage would do…and for once Don was ready to do _anything_ to stop another girl from going missing or even dying at this psychopaths hands.

***Break***

"So what was all that between you and Nick earlier?" Ian asked curiously as they pulled up opposite Debbie Harris's house. Considering her position in the mayor's office Ian was surprised at the simplicity and blandness of the house. On the fringe of Pasadena, the house was a detached bungalow and looked like it belonged in a retirement village not a gated LA col-de-sac.

"It was nothing; Nicky has a bottom line to worry about. I get that…I just…I can't help feeling like he's been behind a desk so long now, first as a SAIC and now as AD, that it's like he's forgotten how to be a cop." Don sighed dejectedly as he reached behind the driver's seat and pulled out his crutches.

"Is that why you've been so active on this case?" Ian shook his head disbelievingly. "You've got good instincts Don, that doesn't just disappear because you work behind a desk."

"I guess so," He replied hesitantly, not really believing Ian as he swung the door wide and almost took out a woman and her dog-a small poodle that was wearing a hat and neck scarf. "Shit!" He swore loudly and got a dirty look from the owner who was wrapped up tightly in a clingy bubble gum pink dress that amplified her cleavage and long legs. She wore a matching hat and neck scarf and for a brief moment Don felt like he had stumbled onto the set of 'legally blond'-a film he only knew of because Robin had made him watch it…three times. "I've got a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore," Don grumbled as he half fell, half tripped from the car, his frustration at his immobility causing him to curse incoherently as he took that frustration out on the door of Ian's dad's Humvee.

"It won't be forever," Ian pointed at Don's booted foot sympathetically as he came round to join him on the passenger side of the car. "And I meant it about not losing your edge. You're a great agent and a pretty decent boss. Besides, you're not a bottom line kind of guy." Ian told Don uncomfortably, unable to meet his eye.

"Aw man…that's, beautiful," Don grinned at Ian, who was actually blushing from embarrassment. "No I mean it! Hug it out?" Don laughed wickedly as Ian pushed him away grumpily.

"This isn't a chick flick ok? So let's just get on with the case, alright?" Ian grunted in reply.

"Lead the way," Don pointed at the small pathway leading up to the front porch with his left crutch as he dipped his torso into a little bow.

"Ingrate," Ian shook his head, smiling as he made his way to the front door and knocked twice but to no answer. He had never thought that she might not be in…

"Try taking a look around back," Don suggested when there was still no reply. Lifting his crutches as an excuse when it looked like Ian was about to protest why he had to.

"Fine," He muttered as he walked down the narrow drive to what appeared to be a garden gate. "Ms Harris?" He called out as he approached, but the wooden door was locked. Hearing a slight scuffling noise and the sound of swift footsteps on the patio, he decided to investigate further. "Ms Harris?" He called again, this time reaching over the top of the gate to undo the latch. The door sprung open immediately. "FBI, I have a few questions!" He called out but no one replied. He was sure he had heard someone but the garden was quite empty. In fact the garden was neat, tidy, orderly, well-kept but most definitely empty. _She must be quite the gardener_, he couldn't help but notice. Everywhere he looked beautiful and, in some cases, rare flowers grew in perfectly tended pots and baskets that hung around the fence. In one corner was an old apple tree with a half full basket underneath the branches as if waiting for the fruit to drop into its welcoming embrace.

"Hello?" He called again as he reached for his service weapon and undid the catch. His hand rested on the gun ready to draw if necessary but still no one answered.

"Ian!" Don called from the front of the house. He didn't sound like he was in trouble but Ian quickly left the garden and made his way back to the front porch in case-forgetting to re-latch the back gate in his haste.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" A middle aged woman addressed them both from behind the screen door. It was hard to make out any distinguishing features, but from what he remembered from the case file the woman should be pushing sixty. If so she was definitely looking good for her age!

"FBI Mam," Ian replied first as they both took out their badges and held them up and pressed them against the screen door for her to see.

"Oh my," She replied with wide eyed shock.

"I'm SAIC Don Eppes and this is my partner Agent Ian Edgerton. We'd like to talk to you about your son."

"Your mistaken agents," she smiled good-naturedly. "But I don't have a son."

"No mistake mam," Ian smiled tightly in reply. He didn't know what was bugging him but the hair on the back of his neck was standing on end and his gut was twisting uncomfortably. His body was trying to tell him something, he was sure of it. "This concerns your son…_Thomas Danby_."

"I see," She replied graciously, her left hand fluttering dramatically to her chest. "I suppose you should come in then." Her smile seemed fixed in place, Botox perhaps. Either way her expression never changed, however, there was a new element of nervousness surrounding her like a bad aura, you know…if he believed in that kind of thing…

"Would you like a drink?" She asked humbly as she pointed for them to take a seat on the small hard cushions of the divan that was placed across from a matching high-backed chair.

"No thank you mam," Don replied as the two squeezed on the divan together, their left and right sides melded together like they were Siamese twins.

"Ok," She replied rigidly, almost as stiff as her face. "What is this all about then?" She asked as she dropped into the chair. Her back was straight, legs crossed beneath her and pointed to the right chair leg, whilst her hands folded neatly in her lap. Her black wrap dress clung to her toned body, revealing more cleavage than a woman her age should, her hair was tied back in a complicated knot held up by two black combs. She had a string of pearls around her neck and a pearl in both her ears but it was her wedding ring on her mannishly large hand that caught Ian's eye. It was a huge square cut diamond with two smaller ones holding it up like bookends. It looked unique and expensive, just like her. Without knowing why, Ian took an instant dislike to the primly dressed and watchful woman.

"Why don't you start by explaining why you claim to have no son?" Ian asked curiously, his face bland and expression neutral.

"That's easy," She smiled at Ian, if she knew how uncomfortable she was making him feel she didn't show it. "That's because I don't, but perhaps I should explain," She added when it looked like Don was about to protest. "My ex-husband and I fostered Abigail and Thomas before later adopting them properly." Her voice cracked ever so slightly on Abigail's name and her eye's flashed with anger when she realised that Ian had noticed.

"So they were fostered…" Don stated rather than asked.

"Did you foster them together or separately?" Ian asked suddenly, an idea forming in his mind.

"We fostered Thomas first and then Abigail a year later," She replied, her expression neutral once more. "Why?"

"So they weren't properly related," Don finally cottoned on, smiling to himself as Debbie looked on nervously. "Damn it, Charlie was right!" The DNA didn't match because the two children weren't really brother and sister.

"Why didn't the file mention this?" Ian asked Don curiously, ignoring Debbie to her apparent irritation.

"I guess it wasn't deemed relevant or they never delved deeper because of Danby's confession," Don whispered speculatively before turning back to an annoyed looking Ms Harris.

"When did you last see Thomas?" Ian asked Debbie, his gaze watching her face intently for any hint of a lie.

"At the trial," She replied stiffly. Her long manicured fingers picking at an imaginary piece of fluff disinterestedly but the slightest twitch of her foot told Ian she had lied. That and she had swallowed before answering, her cleavage rising and falling a little quicker. Don couldn't see what Ian saw but then he wasn't a trained observer. Ian was.

"You never once visited him after the trial?" Ian asked again flatly, his own racing heart cleverly masked.

"No," She smiled, her lips pursed callously as she re-crossed her legs in the other direction. "I never wanted kids, my husband did. I was the previous mayor's campaign manager and at the time I made the suggestion that he attempt to raise his profile and his points in the poll by attempting to help at risk teens. My fostering one of the kids was purely a PR stunt. Once the mayor won the election and it was time to send the kid back my husband refused. Apparently they had 'bonded'. Worse my husband wanted another child…Abigail. As if one wasn't enough he wanted a 'baby' too. Don't look at me like that agent Edgerton. I loved my husband and if he needed a baby to be happy and I didn't have to give birth to it? For my marriage, I was willing to make the sacrifice. "

"So Thomas never showed up here after he got out of the nut house?" Ian asked crudely, she was too composed and Ian wanted to ruffle her feathers a little in an attempt to get to the truth.

"No," She replied, her thin lips dropping the indifferent smile and sagging into a flat line. "He didn't."

"Because we have evidence that he came to LA to meet someone…that wasn't you then?" Ian pursued doggedly as she refolded her hands uncomfortably under his intent stare.

"_If_ he came to LA, _if_ he came to this house even, he must have lost his nerve because he never once rang my bell," She retorted as her eyes flashed with anger. Where it was directed, Ian wasn't too sure. "And _if_ he had I would only have sent him away again. I almost lost my job the first time. You know what they say: 'Once bitten, twice shy'. What is this even about?"

"We have reason to believe that your son Thomas is a person of interest in the LA Child Snatcher case," Don told her as her eyes finally fell to the file in his lap open to the picture of a little girl, the first victim.

"Abigail always was a beautiful child," Debbie told Don a little wistfully as she pointed to the picture in his lap.

"Ms Harris, that's not Abigail," Ian told her as Don handed the image over and Ms Harris's fingers stroked their way down her long blond hair.

"I think I know my daughter," She replied derisively, her eyes snapping with barely concealed contempt.

"Ms Harris," Don said kindly as he wrestled the picture back off of her, "This is a picture of Ellie Wilson, the Child Snatcher's first victim."

"If you know where Thomas is, you need to tell us," Ian added, his own voice soft and comforting, though inside he felt nothing but distain for this self-important woman.

"I know what you're thinking agent!" She turned her head from Don's kind face to his emotionless one, strands of her hair falling from the combs. "I was a terrible mother and I had no right adopting those kids. I should have seen the monster inside of my husband…what he was doing to those kids…I've regretted my part of it ever since. I didn't believe what I was seeing, and I turned a blind eye. I was away at work for most of Abigail's short life. I wasn't _there_ for her and I nearly lost everything because of it. After the trial I took everything from that old life and put it into storage. I can't help you I'm afraid."

"Could we take a look around your storage locker? There may be something there that can help us?" Don asked nicely and for a moment Ian thought the shrewd lady was going to relent to the famous Eppes charm, but one look at Ian and she immediately shook her head in apology-not sorry at all.

"Like I said, I dealt with all that years ago. I will not have you two going around dredging up the past. My career barely survived the first time. It can't withstand a second round. No. Not without a warrant I'm afraid. Now if there is nothing else," She stood and gestured to the door.

"Ms Harris, girls are dying," Don tried to reason with her but Ian was already heading for the door. He knew a lost cause when he saw one.

"Then I suggest you catch the person responsible," It was only for a second, but Ian caught the small, cruel smile that briefly quirked the corners of her mouth skywards before quickly replacing the emotion with irritation and intolerance.

"_We will_," Ian assured her before she all but slammed the door in their faces.

"I don't think she liked you very much," Don smiled oblivious to the twisted emotion that Ian had glimpsed behind her eyes at his calm reassurance that they would catch the killer. Ian had seen that look before in his own tortured gaze. The only way he could describe it was 'damaged'. He was damaged and it was that same mix of self-loathing and resentment at the world that he had recognised in Ms Harris.

"I'll try not to lose sleep over it," Ian smiled distractedly, but the smile didn't reach his eyes as he glanced back briefly at the Harris residence and saw the smallest of twitches coming from the curtains of a second story window.

***Later That Same Day***

"Hey, Ian?" Matt Li, the resident tech expert, called out to Ian as he passed by his office on the way to the bull pen where he had set up his own temporary office. "Got a sec? I have that info you requested."

"Of course," Ian replied as he ducked into Matt's tiny office and shut the door behind him. To be completely honest the room was a mess. Matt had a large sweeping desk that took up most of the room in the small cupboard sized office. He had three monitors hooked up to his one computer and each screen was doing its own separate task. Strewn across the desk were several empty bags of chips and soda cans. The floor was littered with files as there was no room for a filing cabinet or even shelves. Matt seemed to have a system though because he easily plucked Ian's file from one of the many piles and held it out to him. 'Debbie Harris' was the name on the front.

"I got everything you asked for, financials, background, it's all there," Matt sat back confidently in his swivel chair as Ian opened the file and began to read.

"Huh," Ian said thoughtfully to himself as he cleared room on the window sill and sat down to continue reading. "This is really thorough," Ian told Matt appraisingly an hour later as he finished reading and closed the file, letting it rest in his lap as he sat wrapped up in his own thoughts.

"Anything helpful in there?" Matt asked when Ian didn't elaborate further.

"Yes," Ian smiled his small satisfied cat like smile as he turned his distracted attention back onto the tech in front of him. "Her father was a doctor, in fact she briefly interned under him before choosing politics and changing her college major. That means she had access to drugs and has knowledge of drugs such as the ones being used to subdue our victims. She was also raped in college. It went to trial but the defence council discredited her on the stand and the jury acquitted the man she accused. It could explain why she was so emotional about Abigail every time she was mentioned and why she didn't stand by her husband. It also gives her an affinity with the plight of the recent victims."

"You think she's the killer? Matt asked confused. "I thought Danby was the main suspect."

"He is," Ian replied excitedly. "But I think his mother is helping him."

"Why?"

"Because she wouldn't let us into the storage locker," Ian stated simply, like it was obvious.

"Right…"

"Think about it!" Ian leant forward eagerly. "The jackets were old; they had moth balls on them. They were Abigail's and had Abigail's hair on them. Where would he get those if he went to a psychiatric prison after the trial? The only place is from the storage locker. Her storage locker."

"Ok," Matt nodded his understanding. "But how do you prove it?"

"By getting inside that locker, which won't be easy," Ian frowned, his excitement slowly ebbing away. "But I have a plan for that!"

"Which is?"

"To find Elliott," Ian smiled secretly as he leaped off of the window pane and headed for the door.

"Oh, Ian…" Matt stopped him before he left. "I have the other file you wanted." Plucking another thinner file from the pile Matt held it out for Ian to take. "The phone that's been calling you is a burner."

"So untraceable," Ian sighed his frustration.

"I did manage to find out where the calls were made from though…" Matt looked at Ian intently, his gaze one of open concern. "Ian they were all made at the same place they were received."

"So they're following me as well…interesting," Ian bit his lip in thought. He had wondered if he was being watched but dismissed the thought as silly…only it wasn't so silly now…

"You need to tell Don," Matt said suddenly, more confident than he felt.

"No," Ian stated flatly, all emotion carefully locked away. "I'll sort it."

"But?"

"No," Ian repeated more forcefully this time and his tone was firm. "This is between you and me. I'll sort it." He's words left no room for interpretation and though not threatening, Matt couldn't imagine disobeying Ian's request. Opening his mouth to argue some more, Matt watched as Ian turned away and left the room, closing the door loudly behind him.

***Break***

Lost in a world of his own, Ian didn't hear Elliott call out his name as he approached until he was practically two feet away. "El?" Ian jumped, looking up from the second file that Matt had given him as he quickly shoved it under the mountain of paperwork that was littering his makeshift desk.

"You called me?" Elliott prompted, his face creasing with concern. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," Ian lied as Elliott flashed him a 'yeah sure you are' look but fortunately didn't press further.

"What do you need?"

"I want you to go to Ms Harris's storage locker." Ian replied, pulling himself back to the case at hand.

"We got the warrant?" Elliott asked surprised as he sat himself down on the bare desk opposite Ian. "How did Robin swing that?"

"She hasn't…yet. I want you to go to the locker and show the owner Sanders and Reynolds pictures. See if he recognises them. Danby had access to that storage locker and the owner may be the only one who can identify one as the other."

"And if he does that will give us probable cause for a search warrant. Ok, are you coming with?" Elliott asked as he took a copy of Matt's background check on Debbie Harris. Fortunately for them, Matt had not only gotten the name and location of the storage locker, but the number as well. It looked like she had been paying regularly for the locker since the trial. Twenty years…that was a lot of money.

"No, I have a lead I want to chase," Ian stood up and moved over to a whiteboard filled with pictures of Lily's injuries. "I'm going to see the lab about these marks," Ian removed a picture of the bruises and abrasions on Lily's lifeless face. "Take one of the others with you and then call Robin the second you get the ID."

"You seem very confident we'll get one," Elliott remarked but the statement didn't demand an answer.

Ian gave him one anyway, "Everything is maths." He stated cryptically as he patted Elliott on the back on his way out of the bull pen to the LA County Coroner's Office.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

***Same Day,**

**LA County Coroner's Office***

Sitting still had never been an issue for agent Ian Edgerton. He had quickly learnt over the years that patience was a sniper's greatest asset, in and out off the field. So despite the restless shifting of the other occupants Ian sat still, composed and completely at ease. He appeared to be almost comfortable in the small stuffy waiting room of the LA County Coroner's office. It was only if you were to get closer that you would realise that the agent was sweating from the insufferable heat, but few dared to do so. Casually dressed in dark jeans with a sea green shirt over a plain white T-shirt he posed a formidable picture of indifference.

He rarely wore a suit if he could help it and the shirt only came out on days he wasn't pursuing fugitives across the states. Though not always comfortable out of his favoured kakis and black t-shirt, Ian understood the principle of dressing to match your environment and he guessed he was going to have to get used to dressing up when he finally got around to accepting Don's offer officially. Some might ask what he was waiting for, but Ian had no answers for them. All he knew was that he was determined to see the case finished first. Whether he was trying to prove something to himself or his potential team by making sure the Child Snatcher was behind bars first, Ian wasn't entirely sure. He just knew that his decision to wait was asking a lot of Charlie whose insecurities over Ian's leaving were deep rooted and not completely unfounded. He needed reassurances, and right now all Ian could give him were promises and if that wasn't enough, his word…

Folding one leg over the other and shifting restlessly for the first time in two hours, the punishment of turning up without an appointment, Ian used his legs to straighten and stabilise the small A4 sketch pad that he had resting in his lap. Paper-clipped to the top of the pad was the photo of Lily's injuries that he had taken from the bull pen earlier that day. It was only a hunch at the moment, but Ian was pretty convinced that he was right, partially because his hunches were rarely wrong and partly because he could feel the familiar stirrings of excitement that he usually got when he knew that he was closing in on his prey. It was a basic instinct that he had, a flutter in his stomach, a twisting in his gut and that feeling was rarely, if ever, wrong.

"Agent Edgerton?" The receptionist finally croaked his name, her voice booming causing the sound to reverberate around the tiny room. Getting up, Ian folded his sketch pad under his arm and approached her desk as she eyed him dispassionately with open suspicion. Apparently she didn't like it when people showed up without an appointment and Ian wouldn't have put it past her to have deliberately made him wait. She was an old portly woman with so many wrinkles around her eyes and cheeks that her face looked like the contour lines on a map.

Her hands were so gnarled and liver spotted that he couldn't help but wonder how old she must be because to Ian she looked like she was a heart attack away from becoming a patient, not an employee. "She's ready for you now," The woman snapped like a crocodile when he reached her desk, before turning away dismissively as she promptly answered the ringing phone. Ian was just relieved to be finally heading through to the examination rooms. If his hunch paid off they would have the Child Snatcher in custody before dinner and the thought left Ian grinning wolfishly with the satisfaction of a gambler who knew he couldn't loose.

***Meanwhile at LA Self Storage***

Pulling up in his red Chevy, Elliott looked in dismay at the huge facility before them. 'LA Self Storage' was a lot larger than he had anticipated. With rows and rows of storage shelters, which was really just a fancy term for garages in his opinion, Elliott guessed that there had to be at least a couple thousand lockers. Fortunately they only needed a warrant to search one, Debbie Harris's.

More impressive than the building itself though, was the high tech security that Elliott could see guarding it. With a high chain linked fence topped with barbed wire, state of the art CCTV cameras and the occasional armed foot patrol, Elliott couldn't help but ask what it was exactly that 'LA Self Storage' was protecting. Perhaps the security was just a ploy to get people to trust their stuff with them or perhaps the storage building was a front for something much larger. None of that mattered to Elliott, however. They had a positive ID to get so they could secure a search warrant and that was his only focus. If the LA Child Snatcher had made the mistake of coming to this facility, Elliott was hoping to capitalise on it. For once the over the top security could work in their favour and he was grateful for that at least.

"So let me make sure I have this right, Ian thinks that this…Debbie Harris woman is an accomplice of the LA Child Snatcher? Who we think is her son. The same son that killed her daughter... And Ian hopes to find out the identity of our suspect by asking the manager of this facility if he's seen either Sanders or Reynolds hanging around? Is that about right?" Brian asked indignantly, he was in a bad mood and Elliott suspected it had something to do with Brian's father, the LA police commissioner. They had had a closed door meeting that morning and Brian had been silent and unresponsive since, excluding the occasional snapping at bystanders of course. Elliott had hoped that he could take Brian's mind off it all by bringing him with him to 'LA Self Storage' but put like that even Elliott had to admit he had doubts about the validity of Agent Edgerton's thinking. It all seemed like a massive leap.

"It's worth going in and asking," Elliott said instead of voicing his own doubts but his voice sounded weak even to his own ears.

"That is of course if we are still to believe that the professor's equation is even right! We could be looking at the wrong people altogether and the last few weeks would all be for nothing. Coming here is a complete waste of time!" Brian continued as if he hadn't heard Elliott.

Swivelling in the driver's seat to look Brian square on he replied, "You know his success rate is ridiculously high, so what's really your problem?"

"It was a mistake handing our case off in the first place," Brian replied sulkily, folding his arms in disgust. "All we've done is chase out tails for the last month." That sounded suspiciously to Elliott like something Brian's dad would say.

"We didn't even have tails to chase a month ago," Elliott spoke up in defence of the FBI, something he wouldn't have expected to do a month ago. "They are good people, good agents and the fact that they have let us be as involved as they have is a miracle. We are fortunate that they were assigned the case because I have come up against other federal agencies that aren't as generous. Besides, Ian trusts the professor and I trust Ian so that should be enough for you. So stop sulking, straighten your hat and let's go question the manager. You never know we might even catch a break."

"Sorry El…you're right, let's go get this over with," Brian said ashamedly as he climbed out of the car and followed his partner inside.

"LAPD let us in." Elliott demanded of the guard that was waiting for them when they reached the building's main gate.

"What's this all about officers?" The guard asked politely but there was nothing polite about the way he crossed his arms, flexing his muscles in the process.

"We're here to see Mr Donovan," Elliott smiled a small, unfriendly little smile that caused the guard to hesitate, that or his ice cold stare was unnerving people again.

"Do you have an appointment?" The large bullish man asked uncertainly, licking his lips with indecision.

"Here's our appointment," Brian replied angrily, copying every bad cop movie out there and practically slammed his badge into the man's forehead.

"S'ok Grant," A slim greasy man in a stained wife beater and fedora told the guard 'Grant' as he flicked the ash from his cigarette before wedging it back between his two wiry lips. "I'm Donovan," He smiled slickly at detective Hamilton unfazed by the rage still simmering in Elliott's partner's glower.

"We have a few questions about a client of yours," Elliott smiled back grimly as he refused to cough when Donavan blew smoke in his face. "In private," He pointed to Grant with his eyes. Donavan's hard set grin told Elliott he was mentally scanning his clientele list in an attempt to know how to make his next move. "In your office or down the station, it's your choice," Elliott added casually to get the manager there quicker.

"Follow me," he shrugged reluctantly as he threw his cigarette on the ground in defeat and made his way back inside. The look Grant gave them as they passed was priceless.

***Meanwhile,**

**Back On the Road***

Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in excited anticipation, Ian smiled manically and laughed a little hysterically as it finally dawned on him that he might have finally cracked the case...at least in theory. Claudia hadn't wasted any time in cautioning him that the sketch, which was now sitting in the passenger seat beside him, was just that…a sketch. Without the real ring she couldn't be a hundred per cent or give a definitive answer but Ian knew the truth. Debbie Harris had caused the facial lacerations to Lily's face, which meant that not only did she know what her son was up to; she was helping him as well.

A pampered selfish woman like Debbie Harris, Ian had no doubt that he could crack her and he would be lying if he didn't admit that he was looking forward to it a little as well. He had taken an instant dislike to the preened and pretentious woman and if that wasn't enough there was what she had done to Lily as well. Few things got under Ian's skin but child abuse was one of them. Perhaps because it was all a little too close to home what with the abuse he'd had to endure during his time in foster care…

Grinning a little foolishly to himself, Ian pulled up outside the gate to Debbie's little cul-de-sac/ gated community and waited to be buzzed in by the guard on duty. She would get hers and Ian was going to be there making sure that she did. All he wanted before storming the house was Elliott's confirmation that either Sanders or Reynolds was Thomas Danby and that Robin was on her way to the storage locker with a search warrant and then he was arresting her ass.

Content to wait until then, Ian pulled up just down the street from her home and checked his gun…just in case. He wasn't a superstitious man but three bullet wounds taught you to check your equipment before engaging the enemy, not that he thought of her as the enemy. He just had a hard time summoning any shred of compassion or sympathy for the woman who had raised and was now helping a child killer.

Ready as always, and poised for action, Ian placed his mobile phone on the dashboard before sitting back in his seat, taking a moment to take a few measured breaths to calm the adrenalin that was coursing through his tense body. They were close, real close and he wondered if the others realised it.

***Back at LA Self Storage***

"Before we begin I should probably tell you that our client list is confidential. Without a warrant I don't really think there is anything I can help you with…detectives," Donavan smiled regrettably as he reached for another cigarette and his lighter.

"That's ok, because we already know that Debbie Harris is a client of yours," Elliott replied amicably as he reached for the file he had brought with him from the car. "All we want to know is whether either of these men has visited your facility recently." He replied without hesitation as he opened the file and took out the photographs of both sanders and Reynolds. He was hard pressed to find room on the large cluttered desk, so in the end placed them both down on top of the mess of paperwork so Donovan could see both men clearly.

"Again, those that use our '_facility'_ do so because they expect our discretion. I can neither confirm nor deny the presence of these men," The oily bastard cocked his head to the side and regarded Elliott slyly as he pushed the photos away causing a pile of paper to fall off of the back of the desk and onto both detectives feet. "If that's all?" He added, unconcerned by the sudden landslide of paper as Elliott picked up the photos and put them back on the desk in front of him. It was only beginning to dawn on Elliott that the man in front was more than the weedy git he had first mistaken him for. He was cunning, smart and most likely the man behind whatever this facility was a front for. His vocabulary and grammar had certainly improved miraculously out of sight of his 'men'.

Shifting forwards in his seat so that his elbows rested on his knees Elliott let out a long drawn out sigh before turning to his partner. With the slightest nod of his head, Elliott let Brian know it was time for plan b. "That's really _regrettable_," Elliott replied, turning back to Donavan so the full weight of his ice cold stare could fall upon the no longer smiling 'manager'.

"Yes, very regrettable," Brian nodded his agreement with barely concealed contempt. "For you at least." The last part was stated more as a fact than a threat.

"How so?" Donavan shifted uncomfortably, noting the change in atmosphere in the tiny, dirty, grubby little office.

"Well," Elliott replied getting up. "Naturally we will make sure to mention your cooperation at the next press conference."

"Press conference?" Donavan repeated confused.

"You know the one where we say that another little girl is missing because 'LA Self Storage' wouldn't cooperate in the investigation into the LA Child Snatcher…" Elliott shrugged indifferently to the little strangling noises coming from the now less assured manager.

"LA Child Snatcher?!" He sat up straighter and looked from one officer to the other.

"Oh did we forget to mention that we're investigating the case of the missing girls?" Brian smiled cruelly digging the message home, a little strongly for Elliott's taste but Donovan seemed to be getting the message.

"I don't really care about whatever little operation you've got going on here…yet. You see we are _homicide_ detectives all I care about is finding the killer. Cooperate now and I won't change my mind about digging into your little company and whatever it's a front for." Elliott let his message sink in before adding, "Have you seen either of these two men at the facility recently and if so I want the CCTV footage of them entering the locker."

Pausing to think about it a little longer, Elliott watched as the man in front of them nodded nonplussed before reaching across the table to point at one of the photographs. "This one," He told them spitefully, his tone betraying his resentment. "She called him Thomas, asked that I give him a second key so he could enter whenever he pleased."

"'She' being Debbie Harris?" Brian asked disbelievingly. Ian had been right. The bitch was in on the whole thing.

"Yes," Donovan spat back at him as he got up and gestured for them both to follow him to a small room set up with monitors. "Here," He shoved a couple of tapes at Elliott before asking again, this time spitefully. "Is that all…_detectives_?"

"No. Wait here while I phone Robin," Elliott replied, saying the second part to his partner to let Brian know to not let the manager out of his sight. "Hello, Robin?" He said when he heard her answer his call. "It's detective Hayes, I'm going to need that warrant now…yes," He smiled brightly, "We've got them." Hanging up, Elliott phoned Ian next but the call when straight to voice mail.

***Meanwhile,**

**At Debbie Harris's House***

Ian didn't know whether he had sensed trouble first or heard the crash first and then sensed the trouble, either way he had had wasted no time in leaping from the car, grabbing his ringing mobile in the process and then turning it off as he shoved it into his pocket with his keys as he raised his gun and sprinted over to the Harris residence. Looking at it now, Ian was as unimpressed by the building as he had been that morning. Don was right; it still looked like a granny flat or retirement home which was probably a politer more PC way of describing it.

Reaching the door, Ian banged twice calling out, "MRS HARRIS? FBI! OPEN UP!" Both times but no answer came. Opting to take a look out back, Ian made his way down the driveway to the garden gate that was wildly swinging open and closed in the breeze. It was also the source of the loud crash. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, Ian seemed to remember a latch not properly closing in his haste to get back to the front door and Don.

Stilling the gate in his firm grasp, Ian wondered if he should take a look around whilst he was there, the open gate and the loud crash served as suspicious circumstances which gave him grounds to explore without a warrant…

Making his mind up, Ian holstered his weapon before stepping inside, making sure to close the gate behind him.

***Back at LA Self Storage***

In shock and a little sick, Elliott stood to one side listening to the snatches of conversation to drift his way on the breeze:

"…are we sure? …"

"…it's his lair…"

"…DNA…"

"…yes…"

"…so much blood…"

"…dead? ..."

"…yes…"

"…how long? ..."

"…a week…"

"…how did we not know?"

"…runaway…"

"…he's the owner? ..."

"…yes…"

"…didn't know…"

"…not liable! …"

"Elliott?" Don asked breaking into Elliott's scattered thoughts. His question was loaded with horrified emotion. He may not say it, but Elliott knew Don was thinking the same thing: _We were too late…again. And we didn't even know it!_

"I…" He started but couldn't continue. Thinking, moving, breathing caused his stomach to churn and vomit to rise. Oddly, he noticed that he was getting used to the acidic burn on the back of his throat.

"It's ok Elliott," Don told him kindly, his eyes swimming with bitter rage.

"Is it?" He replied simply, his brain failing to catch up with their discovery. They had expected to look for the red coats amongst a lot of dusty boxes…not that. Definitely not that. "Do we know who she is?" Elliott asking suddenly, he felt stupid for not asking sooner.

"Morgan Reid," Don sighed sadly as he rested his back against the cold metal of a neighbouring storage locker. "She was being fostered; parents didn't report it so that they could keep claiming the benefits."

"How do you know it's her then?" Elliott asked confused, he felt like there was a ringing in his ears but there had been no explosion.

"Because we found her school bag not far from the…body. Claudia is in with her now."

"We had Reynolds…Danby under surveillance…how?"

"It looks like Ms Harris was a lot more involved that any of us thought…we think that _she's_ the LA Child Snatcher. Danby brings her the kids and then she…smothers them," Don shook his head sourly. "I was talking to her just this morning…Ian…he needs to be told…"

"I left him a message," Elliott replied after a moment. When had that been? It seemed like hours ago now.

"Good. I've got Liz and Colby heading there to arrest her now, you should give Ian another call, let him know back up is on its way," Don smiled weakly as he gave Elliott's shoulder a squeeze before launching himself back into the foray of drifting bodies.

Reaching for his phone, Elliott punched in Ian's number, relieved to have something to do at this point.

***The Harris Residence***

Considering the breeze and shuffle of the trees, there was hardly any noise in the large garden and once more, Ian was struck by how beautiful and organised it was. Colour was everywhere, exotic and rare in some cases as Ian investigated closely. Ms Harris had an eye for gardening, something he wouldn't have believed if he hadn't seen it for himself.

Running his fingers along the velvety softness of a deep red rose, Ian sighed with pleasure. He felt at home amongst the trees and bushes. He knew that was weird but there was something about hunting and nature, it was like it had been ingrained upon his DNA over the years and he knew he would miss it all when he joined the FBI team in LA officially. He wasn't used to being tethered to a place. Even his stint in the CIA had barely lasted a year but despite it all, he strangely liked the thought of being tethered to Charlie…

Drifting up the small stepping stone pathway, Ian let the sweet and bitter scents of the mix of wild and garden flowers assault his senses. It was a large garden and in his feelings of inner peace Ian almost missed a vital clue. Stopping to crouch at the base of the large apple tree, Ian noticed a small plaque in Abigail's honour. Next to it was the white ghost flower that had haunted them for the entire case.

"Beautiful isn't it," A small child like voice that was unforgettable to Ian, told him as Doug Reynolds stepped out from behind the tree, a basket filled with apples swinging jauntily on his arm. "For my mother," He informed Ian when he followed Ian's gaze to the basket. "She makes the most amazing apple crumble. You should stay for some."

"I can't do that Thomas," Ian frowned at the man's childlike innocence. It was still hard for Ian to believe that this simple man was the LA Child Snatcher. "We have to go to the station now," He replied as his hand moved to the firearm strapped to his hip.

"Mother said you wouldn't understand. But I told her that you would. Come," He gestured towards the house, unperturbed by the direction Ian's hand was taking.

"Put down the basket and follow me," Ian told Danby more forcefully, as he released the catch on his weapon and pulled it from his holster.

"He can't do that I'm afraid," Ms Harris's voice piped up from behind Ian. It was as beautiful and cruel as Ian remembered.

"You don't have a choice. You're both under arrest," Ian replied, turning around to point the gun at her instead. He was too late to react, however.

Before he even turned half way, Ms Harris had pulled the trigger on a Taser gun he hadn't even known she possessed. His body went rigid with shock as his knees buckled then crumpled levelling him to the ground as his arms and legs began to spasm. Screaming, no roaring his pain, Ian felt his throat go rough and dry till he was hoarse and the screaming was reduced to nothing more than strangled whimpering. He had lost track of his gun in the excruciating pain and when she finally let go of the trigger a couple of minutes later his muscles began to relax and vibrate with aftershock. His gun was nowhere to be seen.

It was the strangest sensation he had ever had the misfortune of being privy to. He was trying desperately to scramble into some sort of sitting position but his body refused to listen. He couldn't even curl his little finger and the helpless vulnerability of it shocked him more than the Taser.

"Quick, tie him up." The woman's voice barked at someone, his brain was finding it hard to remember who. "He won't stay still for long and I'd hate to have to Taser him again." The second part was whispered into his ear. A coaxing cruel voice that promised more pain. He wanted to shout for help to scream in defiance as her fingers ran playfully through his hair but his voice was gone and all he could manage was a few pitiful groans as the fingers clawed up as much of his hair as possible and slammed his head into the hard ground.

How long he was out for, Ian wasn't sure, probably not long because next thing he knew his body was being turned onto his chest and his arms were being roughly pulled back until they met at the wrists. At the same time a long rag was forced into his mouth and tied so tightly at the back of his head that he could feel it burning as it stretched the corners of his wide mouth. Once the other person had finished with his arms, Ian felt his legs being twisted together at the ankles and he was helpless to stop them.

"Good," The female purred happily. Reaching into his deep pockets, her hand grazed past his cock as she pulled out his mobile phone and keys. "Use these and load him into his car, we can't leave it behind for everyone to see." She told the person who was holding his legs pinned, not that he had the strength to move them. Next he heard the soft jingle of his keys as they sailed through the air and landed in rough waiting hands.

"We're leaving?" A male voice asked confused as he pocketed the keys and continued to duct tape Ian's legs together.

"If he's here more are on their way," She replied with obvious distain and little patience.

"Ok," He heard the man sigh regretfully as he got up and moved to where Ian's head was lying pressed into the ground. "But I want to drive!" It was a childish whine with a man's deep tone. The two didn't make sense in Ian's pounding head and just when Ian thought the woman might refuse she agreed with grumbled reluctance.

With more joy than Ian thought the situation really deserved, the man hauled Ian unsteadily to his feet before ducking down and flipped Ian over his shoulder. The last thing Ian remembered thinking before passing out in the back of his dad's borrowed Humvee was that the man was unnaturally strong.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

***The Same Day***

Sitting in the passenger side of Colby's black Ford, Liz leaned her head back against the rest and stretched out her long legs. "That's right Don," She replied via the car's internal hands free phone setting. "Colby's in chatting to the guard now."

"And the house was empty?" Don asked again disbelievingly. "Ian wasn't there?"

"Yes and no," Liz bit back the urge to shout, scream and stamp her foot with impatience. It was not the first time she had gone over what they had found, or hadn't found as the case seemed to be, with Don. She supposed it was hard for him to come to terms with the fact that they might have been too late. "I put an APB out on Ms Harris and Doug Reynolds/ Thomas Danby and have set up road blocks but…they had a head start on us." She tried desperately to keep the despair from her voice as she lowered the passenger side window and closed her eyes, letting the San Ana's blow through the window. She loved this time of year, when the sun sat high in the sky, while the hot dry winds blew in from the west. They were as reliable as they were unpredictable and she loved the way they scratched her cheeks and ruffled her hair.

"…So they could already be ahead of our road blocks and on the way out of town. What about their cars? Did you put an APB out on those?" Don suggested desperately, clutching at any and every straw available to them. They finally had the LA Child Snatcher within their grasp and Don wasn't about to sit idly by and let them get away.

"They are both in the drive. However they left it wasn't in their own cars," She replied sourly, the frustration plain to hear in her tone. "They might have stolen a car? Or taken a taxi?" She suggested a little desperately herself, although she knew it was a long shot.

"Ok, I'll get onto the road blocks, have them be on the lookout for stolen vehicles as well as taxi's," Don nodded violently in agreement. She couldn't see this but she could hear the slither of relieved hope that had entered his tired voice. It was turning out to be a long, long day. "Call up all taxi firms and see if any got a call out to the Harris residence or within a five block radius," His voice was quiet and distorted so she assumed the order was to someone else in the background. "Liz?" He asked, his voice clear once more. "I want you and Colby to get back here; you can fill me in on the rest when you arrive. Bye."

Before she could reply he was already gone and she got the distinct impression from his harried tone that Nick Callaghan had finally joined the party. She didn't want to think about what he would say when he heard that the Child Snatcher and her accomplice had managed to slip through their fingers. She had overheard the AD giving Don a hard time earlier in the week, not long after the surveillance appeared to be 'a huge waste of time and resources' or at least that was how Nick had put it. She knew that Don was under a huge amount of stress and pressure but it was more than that. This was personal now and they all knew it.

"Hey, so the guard remembers Ian's dad's Humvee leaving about an hour ago, other than that no one else has come or gone since this morning when Ian and Don visited. So they have to have found some other way out," Colby rested on the passenger door as he ducked his head down to peer at Liz through the open window. His head was blocking the sun so his face appeared in shadow while his hair lit up golden brown.

"Do you think Ian got impatient and checked out the house without us? Saw that it was empty and left?" She asked confused. The thought had been niggling away at her, why had Ian not waited for them? Where was he now? And why wasn't he answering his phone? "You don't think he's in trouble do you?"

"Well the guard described the driver of his Humvee as wearing a black T-shirt, kakis and ray bans. He also said that his hair was black," Colby grinned in reply. "Sounds like Ian to me."

Distracted and feeling silly, Liz couldn't help noticing how white Colby's teeth were against his tan as he smiled down at her. He didn't sunbathe but she knew his tan was real all the same. He attributed it to an accumulation of surfing and chasing suspects. Both got a lot of sun.

"Ok," She smiled back; swallowing the urge to run her hands through his hair. Instead she raked her hand through her own long brown hair and prayed he didn't see the way her breathing had deepened as her chest rose and fell a little quicker. "Don wants us back at the office."

"Ok, I think we're done here anyway. I gave the guard my card and told him to call us if he sees Debbie or Doug," Colby patted her on the hand before making his way around to the driver seat and climbed into the car. "I doubt they'll be back though, the wardrobes were cleared out and their passports are gone. Just in case though, I've arranged to have a squad car posted outside. If they come back here we'll know about it." Chuckling to himself, Colby put the car in gear and waved goodbye to the guard who raised the barrier for them to leave, completely oblivious to the whirlwind of emotions, as wild as the San Ana's were hot, that he had incited within Liz.

***Back at the FBI Offices***

"Still no word from Ian?" Elliott asked Don as the agent joined him in the interrogation room's small observation booth. In the room opposite were Morgan Reid's foster parents. Both were silent now but they'd had a lot to say for themselves earlier, none of which Elliott was particularly interested in. All morning he had gone back and forth with them from one excuse to another but nothing they could say would exempt them from what they had done.

They were both looking at potential jail time, huge fines and a ban for life from ever becoming a foster parent again. If Ian was there he would have reminded Elliott that not all foster families are bad or end like this. Elliott was a homicide detective, meeting people on the worst day of their lives, sometimes he had to be reminded that there was some good in the world and Agent Ian Edgerton had always had a peculiar and annoying knack for reading his mind when he wasn't exactly proud of where it had drifted.

"No. Colby says that the guard identified Ian and his Humvee as leaving an hour before they arrived to arrest Debbie." Don's expression was calm but Elliott could hear the worry in Don's tone. There was something he wasn't saying and Elliott was curious about what was troubling him.

"That's a good thing though? …Right?" Elliott asked with a sideward glance at Don. There was no mistaking the hesitation and large intake of breath. Something was definitely wrong.

"Yes. No. I don't know. El…there's something not right about it all, I know there is. I just can't put my finger on it. I keep telling myself that I'm crazy, imagining it. But none of that explains why the guard's account is bothering me…" Don hit the ground with his crutch in frustration.

"You don't believe the guard?" Elliott asked shocked. His account was the one thing that everyone was counting on. Without it then Ian could be in trouble and no one wanted to believe that.

"That's just it, he had CCTV footage to back him up and it's true, despite the slightly grainy quality, the man driving the Humvee does look like Ian," Don sighed sadly.

"So what's bothering you about it all?" Elliott asked confused. Elliott hadn't known Ian long, but Elliott guessed that Ian, who was used to working alone, had found a trail or link and was following it or their suspects. He had no doubt that Ian was probably with them right now and would be phoning in a location any minute.

"That's just it," Don snapped in frustration, more at himself than Elliott. "If I knew it wouldn't be bothering me!"

"Ok," Elliott held his hands up in apology. "I'll say nothing else on the matter."

"I'm sorry," Don frowned, his impatience still close to the surface and easy to see. "It's just we are so close."

"It's ok," Elliott smiled uneasily, he wasn't sure he was entirely happy to be privy to this conflicted and adrift version of Don. From what he had seen over the month and a couple weeks he had worked with him, Don had only ever acted with strength and dogged determination. This self-doubting and worried man left Elliott breathless with fear. It was almost as if Don was giving up hope and if he was…? What was Elliott supposed to do with that? "We will find them Don. Ian will phone it in or someone else will. Either way we have LA locked up tight. There is no escape."

"No escape…" Don repeated thoughtfully. "What we really need, is more people out there on the streets _looking_ for them..."

"We don't have the resources," Elliott replied confused. There was a glimmer in Don's eyes, a spark of the man Elliott had come to know and respect.

"Not _yet_ anyway…" Don grinned as the plan took root in his mind's eye.

The grin worried Elliott; it was the smile of a gambler who thought his luck had changed. Nevertheless, Elliott was desperate enough to try anything at this point. "What do you have in mind?" He finally asked after a lot of hesitation and self-recrimination. The interview with Morgan Reid's parents was completely forgotten now as Don began to fill Elliott in on his plan.

Later, Elliott had to grudgingly admit that Don's plan was a good one. But he also knew that Don's plan was not without its problems. There would be consequences for their actions. In particular, Don's fragile position as SAIC would be on the line after tonight because once it had all gone down, neither the AD nor the Mayor would be particularly happy with Special Agent Don Eppes.

***Unknown***

Something was wrong. Ian could feel it in the way his muscles twitched with rigid impatience and it didn't stop there. His body felt like it was on fire, starting in his knees and crawling its way up his spine to his shoulders and head. There was a pounding there and the accumulation of pain everywhere flooded his consciousness, causing his right eye to flutter open with shock. He remembered everything, the buzz and click of the Taser's sparks, the paralysis, the roaring pain and the indignity of being trussed up and manhandled into the Humvee…

Most of all he remembered the feel of his flesh cooking from the inside as the Taser's prongs lit his body up like a Christmas tree, the whispered words in his ear promising more pain and worse of all the acrid smell of urine as his tensed muscles began to relax with relief when Debbie Harris finally let go of the trigger and he hadn't been able to hold onto his bladder. Putting his anger and his pride to one side, Ian Edgerton did his best to forget what _had_ happened so he could assess what washappening _now_.

He was in a small, dark room where the only light was the slither of moonlight that flittered in through the poorly closed curtains. From the thickness of the dust and grime, Ian deduced that the room had been derelict for a long time. More interesting, however, was the worn pink wallpaper with faded, but once brightly coloured cartoon horses…no not horses…ponies. He was in a little girl's room or what had once been a little girl's room.

Pushing aside this latest humiliation, Ian turned his thoughts inwards. He was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate. Possibly for the same reason he couldn't open his left eye without it stinging with agony. Twisting slightly, he tried to evaluate the rest of his body and was surprised to realise that he was lying down. It was almost like his body had no energy for anything else which wasn't surprising because he'd barely had enough to raise his head to assess the room.

Wriggling slightly, Ian tested his arms and legs, both were sluggish to respond. When they did, Ian noticed that they made a familiar clinking sound. _Handcuffs_, he remembered as he shifted his legs and listened again, they had gotten rid of the duct tape and used his own handcuffs…

Grunting his fury, Ian curved his body inch by inch until he was able to leaver himself into a sitting position, which took longer than it should and took more strength than he had. The sudden cold on his back told his tired mind two things. First, he wasn't wearing a shirt and second, he was handcuffed to a radiator.

From the new position, with the support of the radiator at his back, Ian looked down and tried to turn his tired thoughts inwards once more. His shoulders hurt, probably from the awkward angle of lying down whilst having your arms handcuffed behind you to a radiator. Dismissing the shoulders, his arms and the pain around his wrists from where the steel bracelets were done up tighter than was probably necessary, Ian looked down at his bare chest. He could see the two red welts where the Taser had gotten him to the right of his abs and just below his ribs. The redness where the skin was puckered in agony told Ian that Debbie Harris had Tasered him for at least three minutes, maybe longer. It was a miracle he was functioning as well as he was, not that he'd be grateful any time soon. The bitch was crazy, she could have _killed_ him!

Smothering the anger that ignited within him once more, Ian pushed past his chest to look at his legs. His left knee was sore, probably from when he had collapsed on them. It wasn't his knee, however, that caught his attention. It was his pants. Someone had stripped him down, cleaned him up and then put new trousers on him. From the rough feel against his arse he guessed he wasn't wearing any boxers, yet another indignity he had suffered. Thank God he had passed out, because the thought of being conscious while either Debbie Harris or Tom Danby pawed at him was too much to bear.

Groaning with vehemence, Ian cursed them both and then he cursed his own stupidity for entering the garden alone in the first place. He had been so caught up in his discovery that he had discounted 'Ms Harris' as being a threat. He should have known from the casual violence that she had reeked upon poor Lily Blake's face that she was a formidable opponent. He should have been wearier of the woman capable of such crimes and he was now paying for that mistake.

The only thought that gave him any comfort now was the fact that Don would realise something was amiss and come looking for him. How long had it been? A day…maybe two? They would know he was missing by now…they would be looking for him. He was quietly confidant of that and on that thought he rested his head against the cool metal of the radiator, dug his bare toes into the soft but grimy carpet and let his eyes flutter shut once more. It didn't take long for the tired agent to pass out once more from the never ending stream of pain.

***The Next Morning,**

**Don's Office***

"You're un-freaking-believable!" Nick shouted angrily as he stormed into Don's office and slammed the morning paper down in front of him. Staring up at Don was a large photo of both Debbie Harris and Doug Reynolds, taken from her home when Colby and Liz had done their search, with the caption 'Can _You_ Catch the Snatcher?' in big letters at the top of the article. He had to admit that it wasn't exactly catchy but it got the point across nicely.

"What? Too much…?" Don cocked his eyebrow questioningly at Nick, if he had come for an apology he wouldn't get one here.

"You do realise that the Mayor had his team coming up with a press junket and your little scoop has ruined all of that? It's put us all under a microscope. The department will be lucky to come out of this unscathed!" Nick scowled his distaste as he dropped into the chair opposite Don and crossed his arms and legs in defiance. "Heads will roll for this! And it won't be mine." He looked forcefully at Don. The look was designed to make men cower but Don had seen it too many times before to be really afraid.

"It doesn't matter," Don sighed regretfully. He had known that this conversation was inevitable; it was one of the many outcomes that Elliott had forewarned him about the day before, but Don knew that he couldn't sit idly by while a child serial killer and her accomplice hid in _his_ city. He loved his new position as SAIC, even if it was tiring and too much work. He still enjoyed it. He would be sad to go back, but it would be worth it if they caught Debbie or Doug because of a tip called in from someone who had recognised them from the paper. It was worth it! Consequences be damned.

"Don?" Nick stared with obvious shock but Don wasn't…shocked that is. Nick was all about status, position, ever the Politician but Don…? Give him good old fashioned police work any day of the week.

"Nick," Don said calmly once he was sure that Nick was listening. "The Mayor's team wouldn't have been ready for days and we needed people on the street _today_. The public are so angry about the case that for the first time in months the police _aren't_ under scrutiny. Besides someone once told me I wasn't 'a bottom line kinda guy'. Of course I care about the department but I care about finding them more. So if you don't mind, I have an agent MIA to worry about and an autopsy to get to." Don gestured to the door and felt his heart sink. He and Nick had known each other for years, he had been the best man at Nick's wedding but right then, staring across the desk at one of his best friends, all he saw was a stranger, worse than that…his boss.

He had hoped it wouldn't come to this because deep down he knew Nick _had_ to worry about the department first. It was why Don had been extra careful to make sure that the press didn't show the department in a bad light. He knew the right reporters to leak the story to and had asked his dad to help him prepare his "quote" for the article. There was no reason why the public's opinion of the FBI should change in the immediate future…

Sure, the longer that Debbie and Doug managed to avoid detection the FBI would look less and less competent but he figured they had a week before the bad press would begin to leak in. Besides he was silently confident that they would be caught before then. There was no way he was going to let Debbie Harris or Doug Reynolds become his 'D B Cooper'. Nevertheless, every good plan had the potential to fail, so Don made sure that he had dotted every 'I' and crossed every 'T' before leaking the story. He had put a timer on their arrest and he just hoped that his gamble paid off before they lost everything.

"Don!" Elliott came storming into the room, faltering briefly at the look of pure distain that radiated from Nick who hadn't budged an inch when Don had instructed him to leave.

"What is it El?" Don asked, standing up at the urgency he heard in the Detective's harried tone. "Have they found them?" _Already?_

"No but they've found Ian's Humvee," Elliott replied, stepping past the AD to tell Don everything.

"Really? Where? When?" Don asked all at once as his pulse flittered between relieved and weary.

"At his dad's," Elliott replied uneasy. "There was no answer when they rang the bell though."

"But he definitely went home first… It's a start," Don nodded, filing away the information for later. Something didn't smell right, first the guard's testimony and now this? What was going on?

"Yes," Elliott nodded, his head bobbing quickly. He was tense, something didn't feel right to him either and the look they shared spoke of their mutual misapprehension. They were waiting for the other shoe to drop and as if in response to their unspoken question, Don's phone beeped the incoming of a new text. Pulling out his phone, Don read and then re-read the text before passing it so that Elliott could see. It was from Ian.

-_Been called away on another hunt, sorry. Got to maintain radio silence for the time being, explain all later. Ian._

"What do you think?" Nick asked once Elliott had finally passed the phone on to him.

"It sounds plausible. Case almost wrapped up…he might have moved on…" Elliott said rather disbelievingly, even to his own ears.

"No…something's up," Don shook his head, frustrated that he couldn't make all the pieces slip into place. "Send a detail over to his house see if his stuff's still there, then report back." He told Elliott who was quick to respond. Once he was gone, Don turned to Nick. The boss front was gone and his friend was back. Don knew that Nick had no love for Agent Edgerton but he was one of their own. Besides, no one wanted to believe that anything bad had happened but nor did they want to jump to any conclusions.

"What do you need?" Nick asked Don, the paper and the press and their whole argument forgotten.

"Help me figure out what is wrong with this tape," Don replied as he moved over to his TV and DVD player to show Nick the evidence of Ian leaving the Harris's gated community village.

Getting up and moving next to Don, Nick put his arm on Don's shoulder and gave the tape all his concentration. If there was something in the footage they would find it because there was no other option. An agent's life may be depending on them to figure it out.

"We never did work out how Debbie and Doug got out," Don whispered, more to himself than to Nick.

"And this is all the footage?" Nick replied anyway.

"Everything from yesterday when Ian and I visited her the first time," Don nodded as he crossed his eyes and pressed fast forward to Ian arriving the second time.

"Then we've got a lot of watching to do, I'll go get us some coffee," It was a small gesture, but one Don appreciated. After all it wasn't every day that the AD fetched _you_ coffee… Sighing, Don watched Ian once more as he entered the compound. What he would have given for footage of outside the houses. Instead he had to make do with the coming and goings of the gatehouse.

It would be enough…it had to be.

***Unknown***

Something was different; Ian didn't need to open his eyes to know that something had definitely changed within the small room. It was a feeling he couldn't explain. His tired senses were screaming at him, assaulting his mind like a battering ram against a solid oak door. The feel of sunlight on his face, the slightest whisper of a page being turned, the faint smell of Chanel no.5…he was not alone anymore.

Cursing himself for his own weakness, Ian opened his eyes to stare into the cold, cruel eyes of Debbie Harris. The slightest quirk of her eyebrows and the turning up of her lips in the corners of her small pert mouth told him that she was enjoying herself, enjoying his plight and her power over him. "Good morning," She smiled, as much as the Botox would let her, as she gestured to the room around them. "Welcome to our humble abode."

Mustering up the best smirk he could considering the swelling to his left eye and the long cut from his eyebrow to his jaw, that felt as if it was being ripped apart from the effort, he whispered, "I'd fire the help if I were you," before choking up a mocking laugh, his bruised ribs protesting the whole way. The slightest taste of metal on his chapped lips told him that he had reopened the wound above his eye but it was worth it for the brief flash of anger in her pale eyes. It was a small victory and he was certain that he would live to regret it…if he lived that long…

The anger gone, pushed down somewhere deep inside, Debbie smiled, this time with satisfaction as she pulled his gun out from under the magazine that she was currently propping up on her long, thin, bare legs. "That's no way to treat your host," She replied slyly, pouting for effect as her watchful eyes raked his toned body appreciatively.

Opting for silence, Ian smiled insolently in reply; his teeth and lips stained red as the wound continued to bleed down the length of his straight nose. From the pain that throbbed there he could only reflect that the blow she had delivered to his head after Tasering him was a lot harder than he had initially realised. Shivering, Ian remembered the feel of her fingers entwined in his hair, the warmth of her taunts tickling his ear…the feeling of helplessness as he fought to starve off the blackness before slowly passing out…

Folding his knees to cover his chest, Ian dipped his head and looked away. There was something important about the room…there was a familiarity about the place that he couldn't explain or put his finger on. He knew he should be paying more attention, challenging his captors or at least trying to escape, but as Ian sat rigid with pain and repressed rage he found it hard for his body to feel much past the pain. His senses were dulled and his ability to think was laboured. _Was she drugging him?_ Ian suddenly thought with barely controlled fear. Being Tasered, even the sore knee and bloodied and swollen eye shouldn't have had such an affect upon his mind and his ability to move more than an inch at a time…she had to be drugging him and the realisation left him speechless.

He needed to get out. He needed Don to look for him…he needed to sleep… Resting his forehead against his knees, Ian's eyes drooped shut as his brain began to shut down. The last thing he remembered before passing out was hearing someone else entering the room, a muffled conversation, someone kneeling beside him…and that clawing hand stroking the back of his head as that cruel whispering voice taunted his fragile consciousness. Then there was nothing as his thoughts entered the never-ending abyss of blackness.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

_*"You have no idea what your life is going to look like five years from now, or one year from now, or a week. It all turns on a dime. And the things that matter… you don't want to turn around and realize you've lost them… while you were waiting." _

_-Charlie Eppes: Season 5, Episode 23: Angels and Devils.*_

***Later That Same Afternoon***

When Charlie finally arrived, it was not to the same quiet, reflective FBI offices he was used to. The nineteenth floor had become a hive of activity and Charlie was amazed at the order he saw amongst the unbridled chaos.

There were agents everywhere, some from Don's old team and several from different teams that Don, as SAIC, was now in charge of. It didn't matter where he looked there was always a scurry of agents, some he knew and some he didn't. Some were answering phones, whilst others delivered messages from the phones to people Charlie couldn't see in the bull pen, while the rest were in the locker rooms preparing to act on the orders passed on by the agents in the bull pen which was acting as the centre of all the commotion. They were all wearing their bulletproof vests and were heavily armed. Their emotions ranged from pensive apprehension to excited chatter and outrageous banter.

Charlie wasn't surprised. He had worked with enough agents and detectives to recognise police humour when he heard it. It wasn't always appropriate but it was also not so different from gallows humour. It was a tension breaker and how could Charlie disparage something he was fortunate enough to never have to face. After all consultants didn't carry guns and fortunately mathematicians' were rarely needed on the front lines…

Shouldering and elbowing his way through the throng of agents, Charlie searched every face in the hopes of spotting his brother, but Don was nowhere to be found. Neither was Ian. The lack of either's presence startled Charlie. Don was usually in amongst the thick of things, helping where he could and delegating when he couldn't. It was a rare thing for Charlie to see Don's taskforce and not Don. His brother was a proud man, a natural leader, with an inflated sense of duty and honour. The fact that he was missing could not be a good thing. As for Ian, always the hunter, how could he not be there theorising, helping, directing…none of it made any sense to Charlie who just stood there watching, confused.

It was only when he felt the rough grip on his shoulder pulling him backwards, out of the way of a group of angry and heavily armed agents, that Charlie realised that he had been blocking the open doorway. "What's happening?" Charlie asked as he turned to see who had pulled him to safety. It hadn't looked like those agents would have said 'excuse me' and waited patiently for him to move.

"That's special agent Pierce's team. They've just come back from a 'Snatcher Sighting'. From the look on their faces it's another bogus lead." Detective Hayes replied as he too surveyed the angry way agent Pierce laid into Colby for being sent on a wild goose chase. The words 'not fit' and 'stupid' reached Charlie above the noise of the other agents. Colby looked angry but didn't bite back, mores the pity.

"Where is Don?" Charlie asked Elliott without turning his head to face the older man. He didn't have to, to know the lines of repressed indignation that he would find there at the agent's reaction.

"In his office," Elliott replied but his attention had moved to outside the room where another phone was ringing off its hook. The desk was empty and none of the other agents were paying any attention to the unattended phone. They were all too busy watching and waiting for Colby's reply, some were excited while the older agents looked weary. Pierce was known for his temper and his particular distaste for Don's old team. It had apparently come as a shock to him when Don had been promoted to SAIC instead.

"And Ian?" Charlie added as he tried to pull the detective's attention back to him but it was useless. Excusing himself, Elliott left the bull pen to go and answer the phone. After all it was Don who had imprinted upon them all that every call, every tip, however wild, could be the one that brought about the arrest of the LA Child Snatcher and every agent and team chomped at the bit to be the team to bring down the murdering bitch and her adopted son.

Charlie could see though, that it wasn't glory that had prompted the detective to leave at the moment Colby calmly replied causing those close enough to hear to snigger at Pierce's expense. No, he was driven by a similar need to Don, and Charlie wondered not for the first time since arriving at the FBI offices, just what had diverted his brother attention, leaving Colby to have to head the hunt and deal with the likes of agents such as Pierce.

"Charlie," Colby barked across the room over the din of the sniggering agents, grabbing Charlie's attention off of the stiff back and tone of the anxious detective as he answered the call and back to the crowd before him. A little amused, Charlie watched as the group of agents parted to let a glowering agent Pierce and his team through and used the same gap to make his own way towards Colby, who was gesturing for him to join them at the front of the room.

"What's going on?" Charlie asked as Colby slapped him on the shoulder in greeting whilst the man next to him gave Charlie a sharp and scrutinising once over. He was tall, perhaps taller than Ian by about an inch or two, with short cropped brown hair, a straight nose and square jaw. He was dressed plainly in a black long sleeved t-shirt, dark green combat trousers and military issue black boots. Slung over his crossed arms was a blue jacket with bright gold lettering on the back and hanging around his neck was a round badge with a star on it. The man was a U.S Marshal.

"Don leaked the identities of the LA Child Snatcher and her accomplice to the press," Colby smiled amicably as he passed the newspaper next to the large map of LA they had spread out on the table to a bewildered Charlie. He had left early that morning to prepare for a lecture later that day and the paperboy had been late, as usual, and Charlie hadn't seen the news.

"Don did this?" He uttered confused as he looked up from the papers headline 'Can _you_ Catch the Snatcher?' to see the strange man observing his reaction carefully. He had an aura of ex-military about him and Charlie wondered why he was there.

"Agent Eppes was hoping that if the public knew their faces they might be able to help catch them but so far…none of the tips have proved…fruitful. We had hoped that the tip we sent agent Pierce's team on would be the one…but…it was another dead end," The marshal informed Charlie, who couldn't quite believe what he was hearing.

"But Don hates the press and tip lines even more!" Charlie protested the marshal's words. "Where is he anyway…and who _are_ you?" Charlie asked rudely, more rudely than he had intended. There was just something about the man that bothered him. Perhaps it was because he was so like Ian but not Ian…if that made any sense. It didn't to Charlie. He just knew he didn't like the man and the irrationality of it confused him.

"Oh, Charlie…erm…I forgot to introduce you, this is Marshal Nathaniel Hunter," Colby reddened slightly with embarrassment. "I brought him in to help with the hunt."

"Call me Nate," the marshal smiled charmingly but Charlie's heart stilled instead. Nate. Hunter… Ian's Nate Hunter. It was the man who had given them Thomas Danby's file, worse it was Ian's ex and Charlie felt surprisingly inadequate next to the strong and muscled stranger who had been Ex-CIA and seduced Ian away from him for an entire year.

"Where's Ian?" Charlie asked angrily, unsure why he was exactly pissed. It wasn't like Ian and Nate was still together, he was just…jealous. Of what though? Of what they had shared…? That he and Ian had been intimate in a way Charlie and Ian hadn't yet? Choosing to dismiss the marshal altogether, Charlie turned to Colby for answers but only got more questions.

"We don't know," Colby sighed, showing the full extent of his concern.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Charlie asked disbelievingly and was annoyed when Nate answered for Colby.

"He's not answering anyone's calls. He's gone. Left and no one knows why," The Marshal also looked concerned and Charlie was startled by the strength of regret he felt in the poised and careful man.

"No," Charlie shook his head angrily causing the two men to regard him warily. "He wouldn't leave. Not this time."

"Charlie," Colby said as if addressing an irrational child. "He texted Don that he's on another hunt…and his stuff _is_ gone. _He's_ gone."

"No…I'm telling you! He _hasn't!_" Backing away from Colby, Charlie turned on his heel to find and confront his missing brother. _Ian wouldn't leave. He wouldn't._

What he was really thinking was that: _Ian wouldn't leave _me. But the look on Colby and Nate's faces as he walked away told him otherwise.

***Unknown***

Mustering what little strength he had left, Ian wrenched his eyes open to look once more into the unwaveringly cruelty of his captor's gaze but there was no telling how long he had actually been out for. The room was filled with what little light could filter in through the cracks in the old tattered curtains, but whilst the room was lit, it was impossible to know if it was the light of a morning sun or a setting one. Debbie was also exactly as she had been before, except that the magazine was gone and his gun lay openly in her lap.

"Ian," She smiled, knowing that the informal use of his first name would bother him. "How are you feeling?" The question was polite enough but Ian could read the undercurrents of pleasure she felt at his plight.

His body stiff from hours, perhaps days, of being chained to a radiator, was sore and weak from lack of use. He was also starving and his throat scratched and burned its need for a drink. His pride, however, stopped him form asking for anything. He was Agent Ian Edgerton and he had been through worse…

Smiling, Ian stretched out his long legs and leaned back against the radiator with as much nonchalance as he could muster, causing her own smile to falter. He knew that he had won some small victory in a game he hadn't even known that he was playing but the satisfaction of it fuelled him enough to let out a croaking, mocking, hallow laugh to echo and vibrate around the small dingy room.

More agile than he had realised, Debbie sprung from her seat and smacked him on his left temple hard with the butt of his gun, causing stars to appear and a ringing in his ears. A little hysterical now, Ian laughed harder and harder like a man possessed until his ribs ached from the effort of it all and the laughter died on his cracked, dry lips, lips which only days before had felt the crushing pleasure of Charlie's against them.

The thought of Charlie hurt worse than any pain that Debbie could inflict upon him. He had given Charlie his word. He had promised to never leave him and here he was pissing off a psychopath who wanted nothing more than to see him dead. He had felt it that day he and Don had gone to her house, but had ignored it as the brushing off of a selfish and high strung woman. Worse was the lust that he had spied in her. Pain and pleasure were linked to this strange and impossible woman and Ian wasn't sure what scared him more. Probably that Don hadn't figured it out yet. Ian knew that now. He had been stupid. Debbie Harris had won. No one was coming. Deflating instantly, Ian eyed the crazy woman in front of him despairingly and saw her sense his sudden defeat.

Putting the gun down on the seat behind her, the butt covered in his blood so the hilt appeared red, Ian watched wearily as she sunk to her knees before him until their faces were practically level and only inches apart. "You finally get it, don't you?" She asked curiously. There was no malice in her words and all cruelty was banished from her face.

"Yes," He croaked painfully as her hand reached out and brushed the few tendrils of hair that had plastered themselves to his sweaty and bloody forehead behind his ear. Rough at first and then gentle when he winced his pain, her fingers moved from his ear to his face and stroked the cut that stretched the long length of his face. Helpless to stop her, Ian watched bemused as her fingers drifted once more, this time to trace his cracked and dry lips.

"You aren't afraid of me?" She asked baffled but it was more of a statement than a question and for a brief moment the heartless, murdering bitch was gone. Replaced by the innocent girl that had been raped and abused in college and then hated and misused by her own adulterating and child molesting husband.

"I'm not a five year old girl," Ian croaked as he berated himself for not seeing it sooner. Doug Reynolds…Thomas Danby wasn't the Child Snatcher. She was. Worse, she had killed Abigail Danby in this very room twenty years ago and let her adoptive son take the blame.

"No," She smiled seductively as the wall slipped back up and the cruel twist returned to her lips. In that moment he was surer than he had ever been before that Debbie Harris was quite mad. Love and hate, pleasure and pain they were all so horribly tangled up in this woman that Ian wasn't surprised when her fingers suddenly left his lips to drop to his lap.

Laughing once more, Ian watched as the realisation of his body's rejection of her touch caused her to blush with furious embarrassment. "Sorry love, but your just not my type," Ian smiled cruelly, hurting her with his words for he had no other weapon and was rewarded with a hard slap across his bleeding cheek. Spitting blood, Ian watched as she repelled herself backwards to stand up, her fists clenched and her breathing heavy. Snatching the gun back up she raised it over his head intending to strike him again, perhaps fatally this time, but his wolfish grin and unflinching body staid her current need for revenge.

"How?" she asked mystified.

"How what?" He looked up at her, his smile never faltering even as the blood dripped down his face onto his cold and naked chest. He was in a lot of pain but he refused to show any of it.

"How can you sit there…smiling…laughing as I beat you, break you…knowing all the while that when the time comes I _will_ kill you?" Reflective now, Debbie sat down and regarded him carefully, the blood on the hilt staining her palm red, not that she seemed to have any qualms about having his blood on her hands…

The thought should have chilled him and yet she was right…he found the whole situation…what? Funny? No, not funny…ridiculous. He found the whole situation ridiculous.

"Because…" He grinned, his teeth stained red with blood. "You think this hurts?" He asked amazed and was shocked to know that it was the truth, none of his physical wounds hurt all that much. Not in the way his betrayal of Charlie hurt. The knowledge that he had finally gotten Charlie, only to lose him again…that was the thought that was 'killing' him. "I've had worse love. A lot worse."

"Worse?" She didn't believe him. She honestly thought her own petty torture was all-encompassing but to him it was nothing at all.

"When I was seven…my foster father caught me stealing. To punish me he put my hand in a vice and proceeded to break all my fingers and a couple of bones in my left hand. For hours he trapped me there, breaking each finger slowly…one after the other until I blacked out from the pain. I don't remember how they explained it away to social services…but they did. Fortunately for me I shoot right handed," Ian smiled ruefully, enjoying the effect his story had on the confidence of his captor.

"When I was ten my foster mother would get drunk and then visit my room. She like to…erm…_cuddle_." Ian carried on letting all of his bitterness spill out. "When her boyfriend found out he blamed me and took his belt to my arse. That would be the scars you saw there when you cleaned me up earlier. Fortunately Social services found out and moved me to a children's home not long after."

"Go on," She whispered when it seemed that Ian wouldn't say any more. He was not stupid to think there was any compassion behind her words. Just a need to know more. A polite interest...if you will.

"When I was fourteen my foster brother found out I was gay. Homophobe. He made sure everyone knew it too. I was ostracized. Everyone hated me, particularly him and his friends. They frequently beat me, letting me know that I had no place in their town, in his house and particularly his family. They put me in the hospital more than once. A broken nose, a fractured arm…the worst was a cracked rib that had pierced my lung and his parents, my foster parents had let it all happen…explained it all away because they needed the money. It appeared they hated 'gays' as much as everyone else in the small town, all of whom encouraged them to throw me back to the system that had obviously 'made me' what I was. One day…maybe a year later I decided enough was enough. I took the petty cash from the family's safe and ran away to New York. Needless to say the cash was only enough to get me there. After that I was homeless and penniless, reliant upon no one but myself, and I was better off for it." Thoughtful, Ian leaned his head back against the radiator and watched the reappearance of her cruel smile as his words sunk in.

"That's it? A few broken bones, a few lashes and a beating and you think you're unbreakable?" Her words promised so much more that he couldn't even begin to imagine and yet his own cruel grin never wavered as he shook his head sardonically.

"If only," He replied, coughing. His chest was painful and the cold of the room was suddenly noticeable. Nodding to his side, Ian pointed with his nose to a scar on his side, not far from where she had Tasered him. "The streets of New York are a cold mistress. I may have been better off but that didn't mean I was out of danger. I joined a gang to survive and when I wanted out the leader stabbed me. It was my adoptive father that saved my life. We met on the streets. Both homeless…he tried to take me under his wing, promised me a better life. I believed him and got stabbed for my trouble. Silly me right?"

Seeing that she still didn't understand Ian added, "Debbie, I was a child with no rights, shifted from one hellish nightmare to another, carted around fifteen different foster homes over fifteen unbearable years. I have battled self-loathing and fought rejection. I have had every bone in my hand broken, been raped, whipped and beaten by people that my care was entrusted to. I've felt unbearable hunger, loneliness and hatred from people I didn't even know and who didn't even know me, not properly. I've been stabbed, shot three times and publically flogged on the streets of Kabul when a mission went south…hit me, shoot me, I don't care anymore. _You cannot hurt me_." He didn't say it to be brave, he definitely wasn't that. In truth he was scared, angry and vulnerable and his words were a gross exaggeration of the truth but he like the way it caused her body to go rigid with anger.

He was helpless to stop her and she could hurt him in many unspeakable ways if she really put her mind to it. He was only human after all. But he did speak one truth at least. He had felt so much pain, emotional and physical over the years that he was somewhat resistant or at least good at hiding his pain, masking it with clever indifference. Perhaps it was that, his indifference that angered her so. He only knew that he liked the way her small mouth formed an angry 'o' as she got up, fists clenched and stormed out of the room.

He was surprised she hadn't killed him, he had glimpsed the want…the need in the angry flash of her eyes…and yet she had walked away. Something had stopped her. Not his past, he was not nearly stupid enough to believe it had anything to do with pity or compassion. Debbie Harris had none. Her rapist and then her husband had seen to that.

If anything, it was the frustration of knowing that he was resistant to her torture. That she couldn't hurt him as she so sorely needed to. That he pitied _her._ Or perhaps it was because she had let him glimpse the fact that for some reason she couldn't kill him…or at least not yet anyway. Whatever 'it' was that had stopped her, it wouldn't stop her forever. He needed to escape. Which was easier said than done. The restraints on his arms were tight, cutting even and his body was too weak.

Sagging with despair, Ian slumped against the radiator and tried to think it all through. There was a way out, he knew there was. Something _had_ stopped her. He just had to figure out what before it was too late.

***Back at Don's office***

"Charlie?" Don asked confused as his brother came storming into his office. Something was wrong; he could see it in the stressed lines of his brother's boyish face. That and the scowl might have given it away.

"What's going on?" Charlie asked somewhat demandingly as his gaze flickered from Don's to Nick's uncertainly. They were alone in Don's office, no hint of the chaos outside to be seen anywhere. It was almost as if they were concealed within their own little bubble oblivious to anything or anyone else.

"What do you mean?" Don replied guardedly, causing Charlie's suspicion to rise.

"I mean this!" Charlie held up the newspaper that he had still been holding when he had stormed away from Colby and Nate disbelievingly, his finger poking roughly at the face of Debbie Harris.

"I know! Un-fucking-believable right?" Nick replied from his seat on Don's sofa, the large TV's remote in his hand. The screen was blank. Whatever they had been doing they were hiding it from Charlie and the realisation hurt.

Ignoring Nick, Don headed his brother off, "We don't have enough man power to search for them ourselves. I'm hoping that now they are so recognisable it will be impossible for them to hide." He threw the last bit over his shoulder at Nick who was still shaking his head bemused and unconvinced.

"Why didn't you come to me?" Charlie asked the pair reluctantly, his bitterness and hurt unmistakeable. He sounded like a petulant child even to his own ears and desperately wished he hadn't asked the second his brother's face crumpled uncertainly in reply.

"Honestly Charlie…I forgot," Don sighed miserably as he collapsed on the arm of the sofa behind him. He looked conflicted.

"Oh," Charlie replied hesitantly. Whatever he had been expecting it hadn't been that. Suddenly deflated, Charlie folded the newspaper up and tossed it onto the small glass coffee table between his brother, the AD and himself. "Why aren't you out there with the others?"

"Something's been bothering me…we're trying to make sense of it…" Don replied evasively.

"If you're not too busy, we'd really appreciate your help in catching Debbie Harris and Doug Reynolds." Nick added, swiftly changing the subject. "Colby and Marshal Hunter are heading the search, perhaps you can…come up with something…mathy to help them…"

"He means create a formula…or equation, you know…do what it is you do," Don smiled weakly at the AD and then back at Charlie. Charlie was sure he was missing something in a look that flittered between the two of them but chose to let it pass.

"That reminds me…why isn't Ian here, heading the hunt?" Charlie asked confused, especially at the quick look his brother gave the AD before replying, choosing his words carefully.

"Ian was called away on another hunt, he apologised but…he's gone Charlie," Don replied sadly, unaware of the hurt his words awoke inside his brother. Charlie hadn't believed Colby until his brother had confirmed it. Hell he still couldn't believe it.

"No, Don. He wouldn't leave. Not without telling me. So what aren't _you_ telling me?" shaking his head resolute, Charlie crossed his arms and stood his ground. It was so unlike him that he was as surprised as his brother at the firmness of his tone.

"Charlie, its…Ian, he comes, he goes. It's just who he is. Besides…I didn't realise you two were so close…" Don stifled his impatience with his brother. Charlie was after all only voicing Don's own doubt.

"Something's happened…hasn't it…?" Charlie couldn't describe how he knew, perhaps by the strange look that both Don and Nick were giving him or perhaps it was that infamous gut that Ian always listened to. Either way, he knew and he wasn't backing down from this one.

"Charlie…" Don started but his face changed, smoothed out as he decided to unburden himself upon his brother. "Ian wasn't answering his phone. Next thing we know he leaves the suspects house, goes home, packs and then disappears. Then this morning I get a text saying that he's on another hunt and will tell me more when he can…"

"You know he wouldn't do that," Charlie shook his head despairingly at his brother. "When has Ian ever left and not properly said goodbye?"

"Never," Don stated without hesitation. It was one of the main things that had been bothering him about Ian's disappearance. Ian was just so…so…rural. A text message just wasn't his style.

"Don, Ian told me he was accepting the position you offered but that he was waiting for the case to be over first. He's more insecure than he'd actually have us believe. I don't know what he was trying to prove, or to whom. But Don…Ian was staying this time. He gave me his word." Charlie told his brother strongly.

"Ian doesn't give his word lightly and I've never known him to break it," Don nodded as he gave Nick another meaningful look. We're missing something. I'm sure of it."

"Don," Nick replied sceptically. "I'm sorry but his stuff is gone. Maybe it's just time to just accept that you don't know Agent Edgerton as well as you think and get back to the hunt."

"I know him better than anyone," Charlie told the AD passionately, if not a little rudely considering he was Don's boss.

"Charlie," Don told him sternly, his tone a warning.

"No…you don't understand! I love him Don and Ian loves me too. That's the real reason Amita left…" Slack jawed and a little stunned, the two men regarded him in varying degrees of disbelief and astonishment. "He wouldn't just leave. Not this time. Something has happened and we need to _do _something about it! We need to start looking for him!"

Unsurprisingly, Don was the first to recover his wits. "Nick if you excuse us a minute…I believe my brother and I have some _things_ to discuss. I will be back as soon as possible."

"Of course," Nick replied without hesitation. "Take all the time you need."

"Thank you," Getting up, Don gestured for Charlie to follow him out of the office to the small canteen around the corner from his office and across the way from the still busy bull pen.

"Don?" Charlie asked a little uncertainly but stopped when Don gestured for him to do so.

"Leave us," Don told the two agents by the coffee machine sternly.

"_Don_?" Charlie asked again the second the door was closed leaving the two of them alone together.

"I think…" Don began a little uncertainly. "I think…that you had better start at the beginning," He replied, frowning thoughtfully at his feet, unable to meet his brother's impassioned gaze.

Hesitating for a moment, Charlie felt his heart skip anxiously. He had worried about coming out to his brother the most. There was no telling how he would react. Charlie knew he was no homophobe but that didn't mean that Don wouldn't treat him differently now he knew the truth.

Charlie desperately hoped Don wouldn't but now he had started Charlie also knew he couldn't stop, whatever the consequences. More surprisingly he found he didn't want to. He loved his brother. He only hoped Don loved him enough to understand and accept him for who he really was and Charlie knew that Don was trying; he could see the struggle openly on his brother's tormented face.

He had one shot, so Charlie did as his brother had suggested and started at the beginning. "I knew the minute I first saw him. He was just so…so…_arrogant, s_o self-assured…" Charlie began, a lump forming in his throat at the thought. He needed Don to understand. Ian was in trouble and Don _needed_ to see sense. Ian hadn't left. He just wouldn't. Not this time. Taking a deep breath, Charlie ploughed on, only stopping once he had told his brother _everything_.

***Unknown***

"Here," A rough voice whispered kindly in Ian's ear causing him to jump, which would have been impossible any other day. Pulse racing and heart thudding, Ian waited a few seconds to gather his startled wits before wrenching his sleep crusted eyes open. It was growing harder for him to stay awake and the tiredness was not a symptom of any drug. Under fed and under hydrated; Ian's cut, bruised and bloodied body was drained physically. He had no strength left, no will and his mind left to wander freely in the dark emptiness of the little girl's room, was blank with despair. He was ashamed to realise that without noticing he had given up. Debbie was right, he was a broken man and the thought that he might die in this mocking, depressing, haunting little room terrified him as the finality of it finally penetrated his thick skull and dented his ego.

"Here," The deep voice whispered again as Ian finally registered the daunting presence of a body beside him as a large hand gently cupped the back of his head and pushed a crushing coldness against his bruised mouth, parting his cracked lips. The first drops of refreshing, lifesaving, water dribbled wastefully down his chin causing his throat to gurgle and whimper with misery.

Realising their mistake, the body adjusted Ian until he was cradled against the solid chest of his saviour. "Better?" The voice asked, hesitating briefly when Ian didn't reply before placing the glass once more to his lips. Tilting his head back a fraction, Ian felt the tracks of his tears as they slid their way down his cheeks as the water burned his dry throat pleasurably.

"Yes," He finally croaked when it seemed that there was no water left. "Thank you."

"Of course," The voice replied happily as he continued to cradle Ian against him, pulling him to the right, unaware that he was making the cuffs dig into Ian's chaffed wrists uncomfortably.

"More?" Ian asked hopefully, his voice was a distressed whine and so unlike his own. "Please?" He added as an afterthought.

"Ok," The man replied after another moment's hesitation before gently placing Ian back against the cold metal of the radiator. Wincing and shivering simultaneously at the pain in his wrists and the cold on his shoulders, Ian felt the loss of the man's presence as he left the small room. Would he really come back with more water? Ian had to trust that he would which didn't sit naturally with Ian who didn't like depending on anyone for anything.

Upon hearing the return of the man's muffled footsteps some minutes later, Ian smiled his relief as once more the glass was placed to his cracked dry lips and the refreshing liquid quenched a thirst that he hadn't felt since he had gotten off of the mean streets of New York City. Hell, even LA seemed like a life time ago, though he had probably only been missing for a couple of days. Three tops.

In truth he was surprised he felt as weak as he did. It must have been the roofies that she had slipped him when they were transporting him... The Taser alone wouldn't have knocked him out for so long and Ian knew that Debbie had a thing about drugging her victims...

Squirming slightly, Ian tried to resist the man's tight grip on his shoulders but was soon grateful once more as he felt the soft wool of a blanket being draped over his sore and still shivering shoulders. "Thank you," He rasped once more and meant it.

"It's no problem," The man replied happily and Ian could hear the pleased smile in the man's childish tone. He knew that voice, it was hauntingly familiar and yet he couldn't place it. In fact he was so tired he was having trouble placing anything and the dark wasn't helping matters much. "I only wish it was more," the man added uncertainly as he crawled to sit cross legged in front of Ian and finally moved into the soft glow of moonlight that filtered in through the holes in the cracked curtain.

He was tall and looked as strong as an ox. Gardening had clearly honed his muscles finely, eliminating any fat. His hair was black and brushed back in a similar style to Ian's. He was also wearing a black t-shirt; kaki's and black muddy boots. In his tired state, Ian could have almost mistaken the man for a mirror but mirrors didn't generally talk back…unless he had finally lost what was left of his fragile mind, which seemed just as likely!

"There is something…that you could do for me…" Ian started but stopped himself before he said any more. The man may have changed his appearance to look like Ian but Ian could finally see the chiselled jaw, crooked nose and broad shoulders of Doug Reynolds. Ian had already made the mistake of dismissing Doug and then Debbie as serious threats and soon found himself chained to a radiator as a result. He wasn't going to be as rash this time. Doug may come across as 'simple' but Ian wasn't going to take any unnecessary risks all the same.

"Anything," Doug replied eagerly, his body jiggling forward with unfeigned excitement causing Ian's chest to hurt and flare with the first sprinkling of hope. The man was a little too eager and if Ian's fragile mind could remember correctly Doug had taken and almost obsessive interest in Ian during their interview of him...and then there was also the subtle changes in appearance to take into account… There was a piece of the jigsaw missing and Ian knew he was close to finding it. If only he could focus… "What is it?"

"My father," Ian replied, knowing it was a long shot but that he had to do something to try and get a message to Don. "We…fought before he left… It's killing me to think that he will think badly of me when I am gone."

"I'm sure he knows that you are sorry," Doug replied appalled as if it hadn't occurred to him that Ian could ever be considered to be less than perfect.

"And yet I fear it is not so," Ian ducked his head down, casting his gaze away ashamed. "My words were…harsh, unforgiveable…and now he will never know that I didn't mean it. I cannot make amends."

"He will know," Doug nodded solemnly as he lapped up Ian's tale.

"Perhaps…you must be right. Not that it would matter. It's not like I could ever tell him any different…" Ian let the thought hang between them. He wasn't sure if he was being too subtle or too obtuse. It was difficult to concentrate.

"Perhaps…" the man started but seemed to think better of it as he flashed his own guilty look at the doorway. Ian got the feeling that the man wasn't supposed to be in here with him, at least not alone.

"I understand," Ian nodded as he too looked expectantly at the door but Debbie didn't show herself. "You have already risked so much. Your kindness will not be forgotten when I am dead."

"Dead?!" Ian wasn't sure but the other man looked startled by his words. Pale even.

"Your mother has promised as much," Ian replied stonily at the man's naiveté. "It's what she's done to all her prisoners. Surely you knew that?"

"No! She said that it would be different with you. You are my brother…she promised to bring you with us." If he hadn't been so confused himself, Ian might have laughed at the man's still and shaken body.

"I don't have a brother," Ian did laugh this time but it was more of a hollow croak.

"Surely by now you realise that not all families are blood ones. They can be made…and I knew the second that we met that we…we were made to be brothers," He was smiling again and the religious fever that Ian read in the glistening of his eyes sickened him.

"It was you, wasn't it? You've been following me. You broke into my house! Are those _my_ clothes?!" Ian asked indignantly.

"What's mine is yours…and yours mine. Brothers share things," Doug replied defiantly, backing up a little from the ferocity of Ian's glare.

"If you were my brother you wouldn't chain me to the radiator like an animal!" Ian shook his arms and rattled the handcuffs in anger.

"Mother says it's necessary. That you would leave otherwise. You would betray us," Doug was confused and upset but Ian felt no pity for him as he had with Debbie earlier.

"She's right," Settling down; reining his anger back in, Ian considered the lunatic across from him. He was the reason Debbie had spared him earlier but he wouldn't be able to stay her need for blood for long. She was trapped in LA, her options were minimal. She would probably use him as a hostage and then dispose of him when she was free of the cops. If he was going to get word to Don, it had to be now. "I would try to leave," Ian sighed his fake regret. "But only because I couldn't live with myself. My father would forever think that I hated him. He would never know the truth that I loved him. That I'm sorrier than he'll ever know! I could not leave with you willingly knowing that! And you shouldn't expect me to." Turning his head away once more, Ian let the tears of frustration that had welled up in his eyes to fall once more and refused to react when Doug reached across to wipe them away.

"If I told him…would it be enough?" Doug asked hopefully. He was as delusional as his mother but for once it was to Ian's advantage.

"Yes," He nodded firmly as his body shivered his repulsion at the man's touch. It felt intimate in away Debbie's touch hadn't, probably because the man across from him actually seemed to love him. Ian could see it in the way his gaze raked Ian's uncertainly. It was a brotherly concern and Ian should have been grateful because it was the man's need for Ian's love in return that had him spring into action in defiance of his mother.

"I will text your dad immediately," Doug smiled as if he had finally found the answer to some impossible puzzle and was deeply relieved.

"Thank you," Ian forced a smile as he watched the man head for the door. To think freedom was on the other side and yet he couldn't get to it left a bitter taste in his mouth. "Make sure you tell him that I love him. And Doug…Tom…I wouldn't tell your mother if I was you."

"Why not?" Doug asked genuinely confused. "She will be pleased to know that it was your row with you dad that was keeping you from coming with us willingly!"

"No Tom. She won't understand, just as she doesn't understand the bond between us." Ian replied desperately, praying that the man's love for him was strong enough that he would keep silent. There was an edge to Ian's tone that thankfully Doug missed as his plan for escape was wholly dependent upon his father recognising and understanding his plea for help.

"You're right…she wouldn't understand right now, but in time…we will make her see," Doug nodded assertively as he smiled and waved goodbye. Once more Ian found himself alone and plotting his escape. The difference being that this time he was much more hopeful. Everything was riding on his father, but yes, definitely much, much more hopeful.


	16. Chapter 16

**Hey guys, a quick note:**

Apologies for the long wait between chapters. As I mentioned before I've been going through a rough time for the last couple of months and as you'll soon see it's also because it's a _very_ long chapter! I just wanted to make sure I had it absolutely right before posting. Fingers crossed that I have. X

**On a Side note: **

This chapter is written in loving memory of my Nan: 6/Nov/1930 – 8/Oct/2012.

I was blessed to know her and to have her in my life. She was always my biggest supporter in life, even though she never read any of my stories.

She will be sorely missed but never forgotten. X

-Colby'sgirl19 x

**Chapter 16**

_*"Not to diss his decorating sense, but I've definitely seen obsession done better."- Colby Granger: Season 4, Episode 4: Thirteen.*_

*** Late that Night/**

**Early the Next Morning ***

***Undisclosed Location off the West Coast of the United States of America***

Muscles burning, heart pumping, pulse racing, Lieutenant Commander Kevin Edgerton pushed his aching body harder and harder until he felt the familiar pinching in his right hamstring and had no choice but to press the button that would slow the treadmill down and ease off on the pace a little. He didn't usually work out so late at night or so intensely, he'd just had trouble sleeping was all and a good run usually did the trick. He would of course have preferred to be back in LA, running the wooded route not far from his house, with his adopted son Ian as the cold crisp morning air teased at his short spikey hair and pinched at his soft round cheeks...you just couldn't simulate the same feeling on a treadmill, on an aircraft carrier in the Pacific Ocean, however, hard he tried.

Sighing his exhaustion, Kevin pushed the button again and slowed the machine right down until he was walking at a slow trot. He was getting too old to work out so intensely anymore and his old hamstring injury wasn't helping matters much. Nevertheless, determined all the same, Kevin tried his best each and every work out, he just wasn't the sort to sit around idly for long. There was no way he was going to let himself become the stereotypical fat officer sat behind some desk. He enjoyed his work in the field too much, even if his son, Ian, did like to tease him for it. But then their relationship had always been more akin to friends than father and son, though he knew Ian had always respected him as a father and he definitely thought of Ian as his son, even if there was only a seventeen year age gap between them. He was proud of the man Ian had become and the knowledge that he had played some small part in that made his chest swell with pride.

Stopping the treadmill altogether now, Kevin let the machine whir to a halt before stepping off and reached under the wooden bench for his gym kit, letting a small smile of satisfaction twist his lips pleasantly. The smile didn't last long, however, as he remembered the skinny lad that Ian had once been. Most of his wounds were psychological, even now, but there had been plenty of physical ones as well. Ian's nose had clearly been broken at some point, he had been malnourished, nursing a broken rib and then there were the scars…deep red angry welts that could only have been a few years old and covered the small arch of his back and the backs of his legs. Though Kevin had never seen it, he assumed Ian's arse was covered as well.

Just thinking about it made him shiver with repressed rage. Just what had his son been through? Ian never had told him the full extent of his past and if there was a statute of limitations on asking it had certainly expired by now. Just thinking about it, Kevin realised there was still a lot of that lad in Ian even now and so much that Kevin _still_ didn't understand about his son. That haunted watchful hooded gaze of his for one, the way he could sneak up on you, his drive, and his determination. They were all things that Ian had learnt just to survive and now used to do his job.

It had taken Kevin the longest time to earn the trust of that hungry young boy who'd had to join a local gang just to stay alive. He had refused to let anyone touch him and often hurt those who tried. He hadn't given his trust willingly either but eventually…Ian had accepted him. For at the time Kevin too had been homeless. Fresh from Vietnam, Kevin had returned home to find…well that his home was no longer there. That he no longer belonged…anywhere. All he had were scars and memories, much like Ian. Maybe that was why Ian had eventually let him in. There was a lot of Kevin in Ian and he often wondered if Ian hadn't responded to his own grief and sorrow. What would have happened to them if they hadn't found one another? Kevin dreaded to think about it.

Unzipping the bag, Kevin reached in and pulled out his towel-he had worked up quite the sweat, but it was a good sweat all the same. Reaching down and pulling at the bottom of his tank top, Kevin pulled it up and over his head before dropping it down on the bench next to his gym kit. He was hot and mercifully tired. He was definitely sure he would be able to get to sleep now.

Any worries over the fact that Ian hadn't emailed in four days was far from his mind as he pulled the top up on his water with his teeth before preceding to poor it over his head, relishing the cold splashes as they sprayed his bare shoulders and slightly heaving chest with wasteful droplets before guzzling the rest hungrily down his dry throat. He had worked out harder than normal and his leg was already thrumming its annoyance. He would have a slight limp tomorrow and he couldn't help but wonder if perhaps he had overdone it a little this time as he dropped down onto the bench in pain, half sitting on his damp t-shirt as he wiped his muscled chest down with the towel.

Lids drooping involuntarily, Kevin rubbed at his tired eyes as his shoulders tensed with warning. He was no longer alone in small room that acted as the ship's 'gym'. Turning his head to the right, Kevin watched through slanted eyes as the young officer approached. He was dressed formally in his uniform, so couldn't be there for the gym…damn his tired mind, Kevin was finding it hard to stay awake let alone focus on the rookie before him. He could tell that the other man was a rookie from his briefest hesitation before saluting. The man was a petty officer, most likely only recently promoted. He looked nervous and his nervousness made Kevin's now settled pulse race once more.

"At ease petty officer," Kevin saluted back, sitting up a little straighter as the hair on the back of his neck rose worriedly at the petty officer's pinched expression.

"Sir," The man addressed him formally as he shifted his weight and posture so that he was standing 'at ease'. "This arrived for you." Reaching inside his pocket, the man produced a rectangular slip of paper. Kevin recognised them as the ones the officer in charge of the ship's phone used to write out the telegrams sent from the crew's families while they were at sea. Their mobiles networks sometimes proved ineffective on the large and deep aircraft carrier. But who would contact him in such a fashion? Ian knew to email rather than phone…unless it was an emergency…

"What is it?" Kevin asked but the young officer didn't reply. The message wasn't sealed so it was possible the man had read the message, however, if he had he gave no indication of it now as he passed it over. Giving the note a quick read, Kevin's heart began to beat abnormally fast as a chill passed up and down his spine. "_When did you get this_?" He shouted out of fear more than anything, his hands shaking the note angrily, causing the other man's composure to shatter instantly.

"Half an hour ago sir, I tried your room first…but you weren't there sir!" The officer stuttered more than a little embarrassedly. "The warrant officer suggested I try here instead but it's all the way on the other side of the ship sir…I came as soon as I could…"

"Inform the commander that Lieutenant commander Edgerton, needs a chopper operational and in the air within the hour," Kevin, who was now suddenly alert, barked at the younger man stopping him mid blabber and making him shrink backwards at his direct tone. "I need to get back to the main land straight away. When he refuses tell him I'm requesting 'take out', when he asks which tell him…tell him 'fish and chips'…he'll know what is needed. See to it immediately."

"Sir?" The man asked confused, but Kevin was already stuffing his gear into his gym bag, the other man forgotten in his hurry. There was no tiredness about him now as his alerted state refuelled his aching joints and muscles. "The commander has retired for the evening sir… I…I wouldn't dare…" the man carried on regardless, sweating now as Kevin had earlier.

"I gave you an order! I want a chopper operational and in the air within the hour, so don't just stand there like a lemon and see to it immediately!" Kevin snapped angrily, unable to feel regret at the man's offended flinch as he shoved past, brushing the man's shoulder on the way out. The crumpled note that was still in his shaking hand read:

_-Dad. _Stop._ I've been called away on another hunt and have to maintain radio silence for the time being. _Stop. _I will explain all later as soon as I can. _Stop_. __Please don't think badly of me when I am gone. _Stop._ I never meant to__ hurt you_. Stop. _My words were harsh, unforgiveable even. _Stop._ I didn't really mean it. _Stop._ Any of it. _Stop._ It is my hope that one day you will be able to forgive me. _Stop._ I love you. _Stop. _Ian. _Stop.

***Meanwhile,**

**Unknown***

_Something was wrong. He couldn't explain how he knew he just did. She wasn't smiling anymore, not that he could remember the last time that she had, but this time there was something new in the way she looked at him, in the way her hand shakily stroked his silky smooth locks all the while whispering words in a language he didn't recognise, nor understand. _

_Was it regret or guilt that drove her? Perhaps it was a mixture of both? All he knew was how it made him feel. Cold, frightened…alone. He was only young but he could already feel and recognise the same empty vulnerability that grew inside of him every time he was strapped into his child seat and driven around the slums of Downtown LA, not that he had known where he was back then. He just recognised the familiar colours of the gang insignias spray painted to the different buildings. The music, the chatter the smells…they all meant one thing, his mother was circulating, looking for a dealer or the 'bad man' has he had known them then. _

_Something was different this time; he couldn't put his finger on what precisely he just knew that it was. Just as something, an instinct maybe, spoke to him and whispered his growing doubt and pain. He would never see her again and he didn't understand why or how he knew. _

_Crying now, big fat wobbly tears, he felt his body lurch forward as the straps dug into his tiny frame. They had arrived…this was it, the moment he had been expecting…the moment when his life would change forever. Fumbling with the straps, he watched as his mother fought against his child seat in an effort to untangle him. To him it was as if the universe was trying to keep them together as she fought to tear them apart. _

"_Julian," She scolded in that cutting tone of hers as her long black hair fell forwards and tickled his nose. Reaching for it, Julian began to hiccup sadly as she finally wrenched him free and half pulled; half dragged him from the car. _

_Kicking and screaming bloody murder, Julian's small hands took hold of the only thing that would give him any perchance on his mother: her sparkly rosary beads and tugged as hard as he could. Slipping her head out of the wide necklace, she watched sadly as her son fell backward for his effort. _

"_Sana mapatawad mo ako," She told him as he began to cry once more, large hot crocodile tears streaking his small round cheeks as she backed away from the screaming child to get back in her car before anyone could come to investigate the source of all the noise. "Sana mapatawad mo ako," She kept mumbling as her son got up and tried to follow. "Wait for me, I'll be back someday," She shouted over her shoulder at his red horrified face as she climbed back into her car and drove away. _

_And he had waited and waited, refusing to leave even as a month later the social worker arrived to take him away. "She's coming," He'd whine, scream and stomp his tiny foot with childish impatience. She had told him to wait for her and he was going to do just that. There was no stopping the social worker; however, she, all of them at the hostel, knew what he didn't, what he refused to believe… _

_Taking his hand in hers, she tried to explain that he was going to a new home, that there was no longer room at the hostel where his mother had dumped him. That she wasn't coming back, yet he still didn't believe her. Never would. His mother _was_ coming back! She had said as much, and yet…that instinct, the one that had served him all his life, told him again and again that she wasn't. It whispered that he was alone now…that he had been abandoned. No one was coming for him. No one. _

"_Julian, Julian!" The mean fat lady shouted at him, her tone deeper, more disapproving than his mother's had been the day she'd left. "Julian!" She called to him, again and again without relent. "Julian!"_

"No, no! I don't want to!" He shouted back, petulant as a child. "She's coming back!"

"Ian? _Ian_?"

The voice was so close, so haunting…so familiar. The touch on his cheek was so warm, so gentle and so…real. Opening his eyes, Ian watched as the owl like eyes before him retreated till there were several inches between them. "Charlie…where _are_ we?" He croaked, his dry throat cracking with grief and sorrow as big fat wobbly tears streaked his now older, thinner, stubbled cheeks.

"Charlie?" The voice asked confused as Ian slowly shook his head in an attempt to untangle his groggy and hampered thoughts. It was hard to place anything in the dark room and he was too out of it to really try. Then suddenly, as if in response to his internal groan, a blinding light burst forth from the familiar stranger's hands, chasing the shadows to the far corners of the room as the darkness melted away and he was forced to confront his nightmare situation once more.

It was Debbie Harris and she was using a mobile phone to illuminate the Botoxed contours of her face that in the half light of the tiny room appeared younger, youthful even. Her hair was down and longer than he had realised and as she knelt over him the tips fell forward and tickled his nose. His instinct was to reach for the loose strands, to rake his hands through and watch as the long tendrils slipped through his boyish fingers with delight…but his hands were firmly tied behind him and the cold reality of the radiator seeping into his bones finally brought his mind back into sharp focus.

"Debbie," He groaned as she bit her lip uncertainly in reply. She was sat kneeling beside him, one hand on his chest where his recent bullet wound was still sore to the touch and the other in his hair. She looked…worried, concerned even. There was a sadness in her tortured eyes that he hadn't noticed before and she was shivering uncontrollably, as, he suddenly noticed, was he. The blanket that Tom had given him earlier had been ripped away to expose his naked flesh once more. "What…?" He started to say, but her fingers trailed to his lips to stop further questions. She was dressed in a white, thin, partially see through night gown and he got the impression that this was an impromptu visit.

It was a side of her he had never seen before and he got the impression he was seeing the young college student that she had been before...before she had become the monster she was today. Her emotions were raw, almost as raw as his own and oddly he felt a peculiar need to protect the girl she had transformed into as she crawled into his lap and clung to his naked chest, her skin ethereal in the eeriness of the phones limited light. His restricted arms prevented him from cradling her to his chest, not that he thought she would appreciate it or want it, especially after his bodies rejection of her earlier that night. Perhaps this was round two? Nope, no action south of the border, he was still gay. Why then? Why did she and her psychopathic son feel drawn to him? What was his body secreting that suggested that they were kindred spirits? It was only when she pulled back and looked at him startled that he realised he hadn't just thought the question, he'd asked it as well.

"Don't you get it yet?" She asked confused, and her confusion was genuine as if she was trying to explain why the sky was blue to the village idiot. "You're as damaged as I am. You're everything my son is not. Everything he wishes…everything I wish that he could have been. You're just like me. We're the same. That rush, the adrenaline that courses through your veins as you pull the trigger and end someone's life…admit it…there's no better feeling in the world!"

Snaking her arms around his neck, Debbie Harris smiled as much as the Botox would let her and looked almost pretty with her mussed hair and her round, phone lit cheeks that pinched to form enchanting dimples. The angry woman who had butted him on the head with his own gun earlier that day was gone, apparently replaced by this calmer, younger self…she was absolutely frigging nuts!

"I've only killed bad men. Dealers, murders, terrorists…people who deserve to die." He didn't know why he felt the need to point out how ridiculous her assertion was…he just knew he didn't want to be compared with the fuitloop and her fruitcake of a son! "You kill _innocent_ children that never did anything wrong! They didn't _deserve_ to die!"

"They weren't _innocent_…not after what _they_ did to them!" She shouted back, annoyance flashing angrily in her eyes as she scrambled away from him, this rejection apparently worse than his body's earlier lack of response.

"What happened to them wasn't their fault. _They didn't need to die_," Ian shook his head warily, unsure what he could say to make her see sense. "Just like what happened to you wasn't your fault…" He added but knew he had pushed his luck too far this time as she slunk further away from him until she sat crouched in the shadows in the corner of the room, her face hidden in her large mannish hands.

"They were damaged, broken. I saved them!"

"How? How does death save anyone?"

"…by, by purifying their soul!"

"No, that's not the reason; you're not just another religious fanatic killing for your faith…" Ian shook his head frustrated. "You didn't do this for them. This is about you. This is about Abby. If you did it just to save the souls of all the abused children out there…then your _victims_ wouldn't all look like her."

"Don't you _dare_ say her name!" Debbie shouted as she angrily clawed her way to Ian's side once more, intent to scratch his eyes out but stopped herself at the last second. "Not all my victims are like my daughter. You're not like my daughter." And instantly that cruel smile that Ian was coming to hate was back. Debbie's mask was back and her eyes promised pain. They promised so much pain. "I thought _you'd_ understand." She whispered and he knew she really had. "You're as damaged as I am. We're not that different-"

"-oh please, not that old cliché again!" Ian laughed and received a slap across the jaw for his efforts.

"Fine...I killed my daughter because I knew that the damage had already been done. Therapy, justice…nothing erases the memories. I didn't want her to suffer as I suffer and yet I wanted the man that hurt her, I wanted all of them to pay for their crimes. They deserved worse than death. Death was too good for them. You said it yourself Ian. You suffer, the memories…I hear the pain, your pain. It sings to us. Calls to us. We put animals down when they are in too much pain. People that want to die with dignity…I helped my daughter find peace. I helped all of them find peace."

"Bullshit. You murdered her because your husband loved her more than you and in ways you could never understand and for some sick reason you were jealous, so you killed her. There was no remorse. You said it yourself, there's no feeling like it. You're right I do understand that. The pleasure of taking out the trash, of hurting a scumbag for information, serving and protecting. We don't play by the same rules as everyone else, you and I. But I only kill when there is no other option, I only kill men that deserve the chair for their crimes. Don't pretend you were giving her peace. You didn't even care enough to bury the bodies. Tom did that and you know what? He made each one easier to find. He wanted to help stop you. What did you do to get him to snatch the girls for you? Promise him a new sister every time?" Flinching, Ian waited for a slap that never came. Instead the silence his outburst had created was suddenly filled with her mocking applause.

"Well done agent Edgerton, you've got me all figured out, haven't you? Or perhaps you underestimate me once more? I really do help those girls. They are better off dead, whether I embellished a little the last couple of times or not. Say what you will…I _did_ save them. As I will save you." Leaning down, Debbie grabbed a fistful of his hair and wrenched his head back till his lips met hers and then she was kissing him, gently at first and then hungrily as he twisted his head and body to try and break her hold on him but his restraints and tiredness made his attempt weak and feeble.

When she did eventually come up for air some minutes later, it was to trail a line of kisses from his mouth to his ear. "You're damaged Ian," She whispered in that same cold, cruel voice that promised that the worst was yet to come. "You're broken…but I will fix you. Soon I shall help you find peace."

"The only peace I need is to get away from you and you repulsive advances. God, I actually _pity _you. After all it must be hard for you…being so twisted, so depraved. You talk about me being damaged? Who must you be that your own husband found you so disgusting he had to fuck your daughter to get any kind of satisfaction!"

Smiling sweetly she dropped his head and backed away toward the poorly covered window. "So tough, so brave…for now. But we'll see. We'll see."

"_Are you still here_?"

"Not for much longer sweetie," She smirked as she ripped the right-hand curtain from the rail above and began twisting it, again and again, in her hands. "Don't worry though, we'll soon know whether you're the man my son thinks you are or if you're the coward I know you are. I bet," She whispered as she walked towards him, the curtain pulled tightly between her two fists. "I bet I'll be able to make you scream before I kill you." She whispered in his ear as she held his nose to force him to open his mouth before stuffing the dirty rag between his teeth and tying it up at the back of his head.

"Erghf!"

"What I want to know though," She told him rhetorically, her voice soft and her hand gentle as she stroked his cut cheek. "Is whether the great Ian Edgerton will beg for his life before the end?"

"Erghf!"

"You mumble that now," She smiled superiorly, as she got up once more and backed away towards the open doorway. "I on the other hand, think that you will before the end. Because Ian, everyone has something or someone to beg for."

Turning around, Debbie retreated from the room altogether. Closing his eyes, Ian strained his ears to listen to her padded footsteps as she stalked away, leaving him bathed in the awkward light of a cell phone he couldn't reach.

***That Same Morning,**

**The FBI Offices***

"Here," Brian grunted at Elliott as he thrust a steaming cup of coffee under Elliott's tired nose.

"Thanks," He mumbled gratefully as he took the mug but didn't drink. He was too weary, too exhausted, too frustrated to drink. All night and most of the morning he had been sat at the same desk, watching the same phone, begging for someone out there to call in a tip. No. Not just any tip. The tip. The one that would see the Child Snatcher finally behind bars.

"Drink," Brian insisted as he raised his own mug and took at large gulp before sinking into the chair facing, Elliott. "You've been at it all night you need to take a break."

"I can't," Elliott shook his head sadly, not really understanding his own irrational thoughts-he was that tired. He couldn't explain it, he just knew he couldn't go home because then who would answer the phone? What if that one person who knew something called and he wasn't there to answer? It was stupid…and yet Brian was nodding like he understood…

"I could take over?" He offered kindly. "Let you get a couple hours sleep?"

"I got some earlier…thanks," He admitted embarrassedly as Elliott remembered how he'd passed out earlier that night only to be woken up by Pierce throwing another tantrum about being put on yet another, bogus lead. It didn't matter to Elliott though, he knew that they only needed that one good lead and the Snatcher was history…he'd wait at the desk all week for _that_ call.

"Passing out on your desk doesn't count, although it does tell you something…" Brian replied as he arched an eyebrow suggestively. When had Elliott's partner become so…wise?

"How about you distract me instead by telling me what your father said to get you so worked up the other day?" Elliott arched his own eyebrow back and watched sadly as his partner's face crumpled at the mention of his father, the Police Commissioner.

"It was nothing, I was being stupid…" Brian evaded the question by taking another, larger sip of coffee and made a gesture for Elliott to do the same.

"Try me," Elliott goaded as he took his first sip of coffee and waited patiently for the younger man to crack. He knew Brian too well to believe he could withstand his ice cold gaze.

"Don't look at me like that," Brian told him sternly, as he gestured at Elliott's ghostly eyes. "I'm not some weak willed suspect that you can break with a simple glance!"

"I never said you were," Elliott smiled as he took another sip of coffee, his gaze never faltering.

"Oh all right!" Brian sighed dramatically as he threw his arms up in defeat and spilt a little coffee on his pants. "I told him that I was thinking about applying to join the FBI…" Brain shrugged like the notion was ridiculous but Elliott knew his partner well enough by now to see past the bravado. The idea meant something to him. More than he was letting on. "My dad is afraid that I would show myself up. After all I've never amounted to much before why change a habit of a life time eh?"

"Do you remember when we became partners?"

"Yeah," Brian laughed unabashed. "You told the Captain that you work alone and then ignored me for a month!"

"That was because you were a rookie fresh from vice, desperate to make a name for yourself in homicide. I didn't take you seriously and quite frankly I didn't believe that you could do the job!" Elliott chuckled as he remembered Brian's first headless corpse. "Then one day you made the break in an important case and I told the Captain to throw out my request for a change of partner. I saw something in you that day…and you've only grown in my opinion since. Bri, you're not that same rookie kid desperate to stick it to his dad anymore. Forget him. You would make a fine agent…"

"Thanks," Brian looked away embarrassed, the doubt still clear for Elliott to see but Elliott didn't have time to dwell on the tense look on his partner's face because at that moment the phone on the desk began to ring.

"Hello, this is Detective Elliott Hayes, how can I help?" He asked down the phone as Brian watched on intently.

"Hi detective. I'm Lieutenant Commander Kevin Edgerton and I have some information pertaining to your case." The deep voice on the other side of the line responded calmly but Elliott could hear the tension in the other man's worried tone.

"Edgerton? As in Agent Edgerton?" Elliott asked confused, his tired mind failing to join the dots.

"He's my son and…he's…I think that he's in trouble," Kevin replied evenly as Elliott waved Colby and Hunter over as they passed through from the bull pen towards the FBI's small canteen.

"I think you'd better come in. How quickly can you get here?" Elliott asked hesitantly, unsure of how to proceed.

"I'm downstairs."

"Down…downstairs?" Elliott stuttered shocked.

"Yes. Security won't let me up, but Detective Hayes, its paramount that I speak to an…Agent Eppes…?"

"Yes…yes…of course!" Elliott stammered as he stood up and started to head towards the lift before the cord on the phone halted him in his tracks. He was so tired he had forgotten he wasn't on his mobile. "I'll be right down," He told Ian's father before hanging up and rushing towards the lifts once more, Brian and the two agents following in his wake.

"What's going on?" Colby asked Brian as they all stepped onto the lift and Elliott pushed the button for the lobby.

"It's Ian's Dad. He's downstairs. He says…he says that Ian's in trouble," Elliott replied worriedly as the doors to the lift slid shut and the four men travelled down to the lobby in stunned silence.

***Meanwhile in Don's Office***

"Hey, Don, come have a look at this," Nick waved Don over from his perch on the back of the settee where he was sat awkwardly watching the busy street below.

"You're still watching that?" Don asked shocked as he folded his arms with frustration. "Why bother? Whatever I thought…I was clearly wrong…about everything…"

"Don?" Nick looked up confused, his old friend hadn't said much since he'd returned from his little 'chat' with Charlie earlier and Nick was worried about him. "Do you want to talk about what happened with Charlie?"

"What? No…I mean what is there to say? My brother is getting a divorce because he's actually gay and he's been secretly dating one of my best friends behind my back. What else is there?"

"You know this isn't about you."

"I know…I know…it's just…nothing feels _right_ anymore…"

"Because he's gay?"

"Yes…NO. Because…because I don't know what I'm doing anymore! I don't know how to talk to my brother to make it better. I don't know what it is he wants from me. Nick, I'm so desperate I started a _tip line,_ I hate tip lines! But, quite frankly, without it…I don't know how to catch Debbie and her son. I don't even know where to start looking because the man I would usually turn to has up sticks and left. I'm not a hunter anymore, hell I'm not even a very good SAIC. I'm drowning Nick and I don't know what to do."

"Don," Nick smiled as Don frowned in reply. "You don't need to tell Charlie anything, just tell him you love him and treat him exactly the same as you did before because he is still your geeky little brother. He's just not into girls anymore…as for dating one of your best friends, well he could do a _lot_ worse. And don't worry about catching the Child Snatcher; just get Charlie to think of something. There must be a nice neat tidy mathematical equation somewhere to tell us where they're hiding. As for being SAIC…Don, do you know why I picked you over agent Pierce?"

"Because I was the best man at your wedding?"

"No because you see the bigger picture."

"Funny, Ian once told me I wasn't a big picture kind of guy," Don smiled reluctantly. It was the last time he had seen Ian. _Where are you?_ Don asked him silently. _We need you._

"Ok, fine. You at least have a frame for one," Nick smiled back as he shifted his body to look at the coffee table by his foot. "Don I may not have agreed with your stunt with the newspapers but at least you was willing to try and you were diplomatic enough to keep the department painted in a positive light…Pierce…he plays by the rules. He's a stickler for them. In many ways he's more politician than cop."

"You're more of a politician than cop," Don laughed as Nick shrugged unashamedly.

"Exactly, but that's because it's my job. Pierce isn't there yet but he acts like he is. Don, what I need is a good cop to be my SAIC. You _are_ a good cop. With good instincts, like with this tape. So trust me when I say that I trust your gut, your instincts and come look at this tape with me."

"Why?" Don grumbled irritably. "We've looked at it a million times already!"

"Well maybe sometimes it takes the one millionth and one time to see what was right in front of your nose all along," Nick smirked excitedly as Don let himself tumble backwards over the sofa until he was facing the large flat screen that had taunted him all morning.

"Ok…what am I looking at?" Don asked doubtfully as he leaned forward to scratch lazily at his leg under the brim of the cast.

"You see this?" Nick got up impatiently to jab at the small image of Ian getting out of the car to meet the guard at the gate. "This is when you and Ian arrived this morning."

"Ok…?" Don replied still not making the connection. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Right," Nick grinned as he moved the newspaper to dig out the file he had left on the glass coffee table the day before when they had first sat down with the tape. "What did the guard say? The man was wearing ray bans, a black shirt and we're assuming cargos?"

"Right, standard for Ian," Don frowned as he began to feel the hair rise on the back of his neck as he switched his view from the statement Nick was holding out to him and the grainy image of Ian blown up on the large screen. "But Ian wasn't wearing that this morning!" He shouted suddenly as he caught up to what Nick had spotted. "This morning he was wearing a shirt and nice trousers…why would he change?" Don asked but he already knew the answer before Nick replied.

"He didn't," Nick frowned as his excitement began to ebb away. Fast forwarding the tape Nick froze the image on Ian as he arrived later that evening by himself. "See same outfit, except when he leaves…he's changed." Fast forwarding again, Nick froze the tape on the man driving out of the gated cul-de-sac.

"So that's how Debbie and Tom got away…" Don replied mystified as he shook his head in disbelief. "But Ian wasn't at their house or his…"

"They must have taken him with them," Nick folded his arms and regarded Don carefully before continuing. "We need to get on this straight away."

"He's been gone three days…and no one was looking," Don replied as he tried to put his guilt to one side and think it all through.

"They haven't made any ransom demands...chances for him aren't good…" Nick added sadly as he sunk down onto the sofa beside Don once more.

"They covered up his disappearance. I have to believe that means they're keeping him alive."

"We haven't any proof that he's alive."

"We don't have any proof that he's dead either!" Don sat back shocked that Nick was giving up so quickly.

"Ok…fine. Then what's our next move? Because as far as I can tell we don't even know whether our road blocks went up quick enough to have contained them within LA." Nick pointed out calmly and Don despised his friend for his ability to keep his composure as Don felt his own panic begin to rise.

"We-" Don started to say before Elliott came crashing through the door without knocking.

"Don!" Elliott shouted nervously as Colby, Hunter, Brian and an older man followed the bold detective into Don's office. "It's Ian, he's in trouble!"

"We know," Nick replied from his seat next to Don as he surveyed the small group, spending the longest on the stranger who was dressed similarly to Hunter in Kaki's, a long sleeved black t-shirt and a shoulder holster that was holding a standard Glock. He looked tired and walked with the slightest of limps on his right side. He was tall and lean and despite his tiredness, was alert and ready for action.

"You do?" It was the stranger that spoke and the slightest tinge of hope lined his thick gravelled tone.

"Yes, we do." Don replied as he grabbed his crutches and made his way over. He had never met the man and yet, there was so much of Ian in him that Don recognised him instantly. "It's a pleasure to meet you Lieutenant Commander Edgerton. I'm SAIC Don Eppes. Your son speaks very highly of you. Please take a seat and explain how _you_ came to realise that your son was missing."

***Later in the FBI Bull Pen***

"I don't even know what we're looking for," Colby grumbled as he and Elliott shuffled through the many files and photos cluttering Ian's makeshift desk in the bull pen.

"I don't think Don does either," Elliott frowned exasperated as he accidently knocked yet another stack of paperwork off the desk. "This desk is a shit heap, how does Ian find anything?" He sighed as Colby bent down to help him pick it all up.

"It may not look like it but there is a system. It's all sorted in chronological order," Colby smiled ruefully as he picked up a purple file with a post it note with Ian's name on the front, it looked like Matt's scrawl/handwriting.

"Yeah chronological order of when he chucked it there," Elliott laughed as he noticed the curious way Colby fingered the file. "What is it?"

"Looks like a trace Matt did on a burner phone for Ian…except the number it called is Ian's," Colby shook his head confused as he passed the file over to Elliott to look over.

"Look at the times, seven o'clock, eight o'clock, nine o'clock, ten o'clock, eleven o'clock…whoever this was they were persistent."

"And frequent," Colby pointed at the top of the page over Elliott's shoulder. "Looks like the calls occurred practically every day."

"And Ian didn't say anything…?"

"Not to me," Colby shrugged as he abandoned the rest of the paper to the floor and perched on the edge of Edgerton's desk. "Do you think that the calls are related to his disappearance?"

"I thought that Debbie and Thomas took Ian?" Elliott considered Colby's question thoughtfully as he handed the file back.

"Yes…but think about it, Will said that Danby…well Doug…so confusing, took an abnormal interest in Ian during their interview and the calls started not long after…"

"You think Ian was targeted?"

"I think it's possible," Colby nodded as he turned the page. "Hey, look at this. Matt traced the burner cell to some house in Pasadena."

"That's Ian's dad's place!" Elliott replied shocked. They were at Ian's when they called, watching him? Creepy."

"We need to tell Nate and Brian, they're at Ian's with his dad to see what was taken. Who knows maybe Thomas visited Ian's before they dumped the car. What if he took Ian's ray ban's and clothes while he was there?"

"Ok, call them. I'll go see Matt. He traced the phone once; maybe he can trace it again!"

"Ask him to try Ian's again. One of them phoned Ian's dad. They can have only gotten the number for the ship from Ian's cell. Let's hope they were stupid enough to make the call from their hide out." Colby smiled wolfishly as he slapped Elliott on the shoulder before grabbing his coat and leaving.

"Get a lead?" Don asked from behind, making Elliott jump with fright. He was still really tired and the coffee Don held out for him was much appreciated.

"Thanks," Elliott smiled as he took the cup and drank heartily before filling Don in on what they'd found on Ian's desk.

"Damn it Edgerton," Don shook his head with disappointment. "He should have come to me."

"Why do you think he didn't?"

"Ian isn't one to sit around a camp fire talking about his feelings. He probably thought he could handle it alone. He may have had a team in the army, but Ian works alone. We need to talk to Matt and get over to Thomas Danby's apartment immediately. We didn't find anything the first time but we weren't looking for this sort of thing before…"

"You really think Reynolds…Danby has hidden photos of Ian in his apartment?" Elliott asked a little disbelievingly. He had been there the first time and hadn't seen anything then. Mind you he had been a little shaken up from discovering Morgan Reid's body at the time…

"He was watching him, that level of obsession usually comes with candids," Don shrugged indifferently.

"I'll go to Danby's," Elliott nodded as he grabbed his own coat and headed for the door. "I'll call if I find anything."

"Wait!" Don shouted to stop Elliott before he closed the door. "I'm coming with you."

"What about Matt?"

"I'll get Nikki to follow up with Matt. It'll take the two of us to search the house. You can take the upstairs," Don smiled as he step, hop, stepped out of the bull pen and into the busy corridor. It was their first solid lead. He'd take that.

***Thomas Danby's Apartment***

"I checked the bedroom twice, there's nothing up there," Elliott told Don irritably as he made his way into the small living room that also served as a joint kitchen. "Some coat hangers are empty, his toothpaste and brush are gone and I couldn't find his passport. This is the neatest house filled with the most insignificant crap that I've ever seen. I think it's safe to say Danby's not coming back. If he had anything on Ian he might have taken it with him?"

"No, there's more to all this…I know there is," Don stepped back into the corner of the room and surveyed it one more time. "Like you said…everything is so neat. It has a place…there's no clutter…"

"He spent a long time on that prison's psych ward…" Elliott shrugged as he walked up to the small kitchenette and started searching all the cupboards. "Shit even his cereal is boring," He turned to Don and held up a box of plain oat porridge. "'…The brand of serial killers!'" He laughed but Don was too distracted to properly hear him.

"You're right," Don smiled as he made his way over to Elliott who was now mocking the contents of Danby's fridge. "He would have learnt to be smart about hiding things…"

"Well here's a camera with a ridiculous sized lens that just screams 'I'm compensating for something'. Just the right size if you're a private detective…or a stalker," Elliott joked over his shoulder at Don as he moved into the half of the room that served as the living room. "Memory card is blank though…"

"Yeah…right…you hear that?" Don grinned at Elliott as Elliott returned the camera back to the bookcase where he had found it.

"A problem with the air conditioner maybe?" Elliott suggested as they both made their way over to the large unit built into the wall next to a painting that looked like drops of bright red paint or blood…Don hated contemporary art. "What's it doing on though?"

"Some of these newer units are programed to come on if the room goes above a certain temperature. Hey, look, this front panel's loose," Don told Elliott excitedly as he ditched the crutches to get a proper grip on the A/C's plastic casing.

"Well, well, well," Elliott grinned as the casing came away to reveal a stack of photo's stuffed in envelopes next to some rosary beads that were inscribed with a woman's name. Teresa. Don didn't know any Teresa's but he got the impression that Ian might.

Pocketing the beads, Don grabbed the first envelope of pictures and began to flick through them, stopping only when he arrived at a section of Charlie and Ian together. The images started out standard enough, but soon changed from two men enjoying a beer together into a heavy make out session. Don's initial reaction was to stop flicking through them but something compelled him to see more.

When held on the left edge the photos became a freaky flip book of sorts, there were that many of them, and Don watched fascinated as Ian pulled away and the pair began to argue…or talk about something equally unpleasant. Whatever it was though, didn't last long because the pair was soon kissing again before finally settling down to eat popcorn and watch a movie.

"What is it Don?" Elliott asked when Don appeared to be stuck on one particular photo near the end. It was a shot of Ian and Charlie snuggled up on the couch together, the plains of their faces and bodies covered in the warm glow of the television screen. It was the first time Don had seen either of them look so…so…happy…so..._content_…so in love.

"It's nothing," Don replied, his voice husky as he realised how badly he had treated his brother earlier. Charlie had bared his soul and Don had told him they'd talk about it later and fled when Nikki had burst into the room, shattering the awkward silence that had seemed almost never ending. Charlie had been waiting for Don to tell him everything was going to be ok and Don had needed to be anywhere else. His heart beat a little faster just thinking about how selfish he'd been and how crushed Charlie had looked as Don had made his lame excuses and legged it from the room. Nick was right; he should have given his brother a hug and told him that he loved him. He could be such an insensitive prat sometimes!

Pocketing the picture of Ian and Charlie, Don plastered the best smile he knew how to pull off in that moment and turned to face Elliott who was looking at him like he wouldn't be so easily fooled. That or it was because Don had just stolen a piece of evidence…not that they would miss one picture when they had at least over two hundred more. "We'd best get back to the office, find out what the others have found. Grab the camera as well, it's all evidence." Desperate for air, Don left Elliott to it as he made his slow way back to Elliott's small car.

***Back at the FBI Offices,**

**In The Bull Pen***

Slipping into the large oval shaped room, Elliott watched with interest as the crowd parted for Don to make his way to the front of the room. It was so packed that Elliott wondered if every agent in the building was in attendance and then mentally slapped himself for thinking it. An FBI agent had been kidnapped, of course everyone was here. It would be the Bureau's highest priority! But it was more than that, it was Ian and he was more popular than he probably realised.

Finding a seat at the back of the room next to Brian, Elliott nodded briefly to his partner before turning his attention back to Don who was now waving for silence as the crowd parted once more to let the AD through. "Thank you Don," Nick smiled politely before turning to face the room. "Those of you that can should sit; I want the rest of you to spread out along the walls. You're going to need to be able see the board."

Pointing at the board behind him, Don waited for Matt to load up the two CCTV stills of Ian entering the guard house and Thomas leaving before addressing the room. "We have reason to believe that three days ago agent Edgerton was taken by the LA Child Snatcher and her Son as they fled her home. Agent Edgerton was last seen on CCTV footage entering the premises but not leaving. We've had no demands but this morning, Lieutenant Commander Edgerton received a message sent from Ian's phone. So for the time being we are to work on the assumption that agent Edgerton is still _alive_."

"We think that he attracted the attention of Thomas Danby aka Doug Reynolds during an interview _here_ over a week ago," Colby took over as he held up several evidence bags for the crowd to see. "We have evidence that Danby was following Ian, phoning him and hanging up. Those calls were traced to Edgerton's address and a search of his house revealed several missing items, some of which were recovered at a search of Danby's own home. The majority of items that were taken were designed to make it appear as though Ian had left town as his text to SAIC Eppes suggests but some personal items were taken as well."

"What's the plan then?" Agent Pierce spoke up from the back of the room where he was leaning. Turning in his seat to look at the agent, Elliott was intrigued by the tension he saw there. Pierce may have a problem with Don, but Ian was apparently another matter. He seemed almost…concerned. "We are exactly where we were yesterday except this morning we now have a missing agent as well and no clue where to look!"

"Actually we aren't exactly where we were yesterday. That's a physical impossibility," Dr Larry Fleinhardt smiled pleasantly at the now glowering agent from the bull pen's open doorway.

"Great! The 'Geek Squads' back to tell us how to do our job again!" Pierce grumbled quietly and Elliott couldn't help but notice the nods his comment generated by those close enough to hear.

"Do I need to remind you that it was that 'Geek Squad' that first got us looking at Doug Reynolds in the first place? That Charlie is the reason we are even this close to catching the Snatcher in the first place?" Will hissed angrily from his seat next to Brian. It was no secret that he hadn't really believed in Charlie's methods before but he did in the results they had produced since.

"No," Agent Pierce grunted in surrender as Larry finished talking with Matt who had pulled up a big map of LA on the interactive board's large screen.

"Larry? What are you doing here?" Don smiled confused as he grasped his old friend, and Charlie's old professors, hand in welcome.

"Charlie called," Larry shrugged like it was obvious. "He said that Ian was missing and no one would believe him, so he called and asked for my help. I thought that he would be here?"

"He had an important lecture at work. He didn't want to go but I kind of shanghaied him into it…" Don replied abashed. "But I've got Matt Skyping him now."

"I'm here," Charlie replied from a smaller monitor to the right of the board. "Ah good you have the map ready." If Elliott wasn't mistaken, a look passed between the two brothers. Charlie's was slightly angry and said: "I told you so", and Don's was guilty and said: "I know, I'm sorry."

"So what's the plan Charlie?" Nick asked from his seat in the front row, determined to move things along. "We've a lot of ground to cover, where do you suggest we look?"

"Ok, so we are fairly certain that Debbie Harris and Thomas Danby are somewhere in here." Charlie told the entranced agents as Colby crossed the room to point the monitor so that Charlie was facing the map.

"We think they are but there's no such thing as a perfect dragnet," Nate replied from where he was leaning near the door. "The road blocks went up around the same time that Danby was caught on CCTV footage leaving his mother's gated cul-de-sac, which is here." He added as he took the marker off of Larry to draw a circle on the map to mark Debbie Harris's home.

"Right, Charlie nodded as Colby pointed him so that he was facing the room once more. "Don, do you remember when Megan was kidnapped?"

"How could I forget?" Don mumbled angrily, but his anger wasn't directed at his brother. It had just been one bitch of a case. "What about it?"

"I think we can apply the same equation here too. If you remember we used a method called the Trawler Problem?" Charlie asked patiently but his brother looked blank.

"Was that the one using boats?" Colby asked from behind the monitor.

"Yes!" Charlie nodded impressed.

"Boats?" Agent Pierce asked derisively from the back. He had intended it for those closest to him but his voice had carried.

Opening his mouth to argue, Colby cut Don off before he let Pierce goad Don into saying something he would later regret. "You have to imagine that the map is the ocean," Colby winked at the other agent causing Pierce's scowl to deepen and his cheeks to flush pink with embarrassment.

"The crux of the Trawler Problem is that there are two boats. A fast boat chasing a slower boat until the slow one disappears into a fog bank. We are the fast boat and Debbie and Thomas are the slow boat and the fog bank is our 'dragnet'. The Trawler Problem assumes that the slow boat enters the fog bank and then turns at a particular angle, then continually heads in that direction. The surprising solution to the problem is for the fastest boat to proceed to the point where the boats would have met if the slow boat had made a hundred and eighty turn and headed back towards the fast boat."

"Why the hell would they do that?" Nate asked fascinated as Larry took the marker pen back.

"They wouldn't but the beauty of the solution is that it doesn't matter right?" Don asked as he tried his hardest to keep up with Charlie's explanation.

"Right," Charlie nodded. "Using the last known location of the missing boat as an origin point, we can spiral out to intercept the slower boat before it completes a full turn. Debbie took Ian from the point Nate drew on the board. We know that the text saying Ian was leaving was made here," Matt marked the spot for Charlie, "and then the message to Kevin was made here." Again Matt marked the spot before handing the pen back to Larry who proceeded to draw a search spiral that covered all three points.

"I'm sorry to break the illusion," He wasn't really sorry, "But this _isn't_ the open ocean. It's a city." Pierce smiled sardonically, his brief concern for Ian nowhere to be seen now. Elliott wouldn't have been surprised to find out that it was all an act because everyone else was concerned and he saw himself as the people's leader.

"Right," Charlie replied, ignoring the sarcasm. "We'll have to consider the varying terrain and time laps. We'll compensate for this with overlapping search spirals to maximise area cover."

"I'll roster everyone up, get them out there searching," Colby told Don as he gestured for Nate to follow him.

"I'll log off and get there as soon as I can," Charlie added but Don cut him off before he could close the program.

"No Charlie, you have your lecture, the Dean is going to be there and other important mathematician's whose names escape me," Don looked away distracted as the other agents began to pair off ready to drive out.

"Like I could give a lecture while Ian is in trouble," Charlie chided more than a little offended. "I wouldn't be able to concentrate."

"You have to," Don dug the knife a little deeper. He knew that his brother would read too much into it, see it as another rejection. Truth was he was worried about Charlie. Cal Sci is the safest place for him. "I'll call you if we find him."

"No, _Don!_" Charlie shouted angrily as his brother ended the call and broke the connection.

"Larry, do me a favour and make sure he's ok and goes through with the lecture," Don asked sadly as Will, Brian and Elliott approached to get a better look at the map.

"Of course," Larry nodded and left as suddenly as he had arrived. Elliott didn't know who he was but he got the impression that he was a little absent minded.

"Interesting," Will mumbled as he picked up the abandoned marker and drew three concentric circles around Larry's spiral.

"What are you doing?" Brian asked when Will made his way over to Ian's desk and started rummaging through the different files.

"Huh," Elliott replied as he looked from the map on the board to the map of Charlie's hot zones on the wall. The spiral seemed to coincide exactly. "Are you sure your brother does math and not magic? This is a little spooky…"

"That's nothing!" Will shouted coming back over, waving a thick blue file high in the air. It was the original Thomas Danby case file that Robin's dad had given them. "I can tell you exactly where they are!"

"What?" Brian, Don and Elliott all shouted together.

"Yep! Right…here!" Will replied as he picked up the marker once more and drew a cross over a residential zone that coincided with both Charlie's Trawler Problem and his red hot zone.

"Why there?" Don asked confused.

"Because it's where Abigail Danby died. Think about it, all for serial killers it's always about glorifying that first kill. We know that she picks her victims to look like her daughter, the daughter she murdered to save her from her husband. Her latest embellishments means she's enjoying herself too much but at the same time, she has a code, morals in a way. She can't kill _any_ child, they have to be as damaged as she is, as her daughter was, and they need to be saved. It doesn't matter to her how, so long as the end result is the same. It's like she sees herself as some angel of mercy. A Twisted one…but you get my point? I'm telling you she is there. She used her daughter's clothes to bury the children in; she had a storage locker of everything she owned from that life neatly preserved!"

"Make's sense…" Elliott chipped in thoughtfully. "The noose is tightening, they try to leave but by the time they've ditched Ian's car and made it look like he's left the road blocks are in place. She's got to go somewhere she knows, somewhere she feels secure. Somewhere she can control the exits and no one would notice. If I remember right I read that the house was left empty after the murder. It's been deserted for twenty years."

"Then get over there, take Pierce's team and get Ian back."

"Don?" Colby asked disbelievingly from behind.

"You heard. You need more than one team, take Pierce's and agent Stein's," Don replied sternly, there was no room for comprise in his tone.

"Yes sir!" Colby nodded his understanding before leaving to brief the other teams.

"Are you coming too?" Elliott asked Don as they made to follow Colby to the locker room to get kitted out.

"Not this time," Don put a hand on Elliott's shoulder and squeezed his new and unlikely friend. "Bring him home."

"Of course," Elliott slapped Don on his shoulder before making his way to the packed locker room. The excitement and buzz in the air was practically palpable.

***The Old Danby Home***

"What are you doing?" Ian heard Thomas Danby hiss accusingly at his mother as he crossed the short hall from his room to hers.

"Packing," She replied loudly, making no effort to keep her voice down. "We're leaving."

"Ian too, right? You promised that he could come too!" Thomas whined pitifully and in his delirious state, Ian was almost touched by his concern.

"Sorry honey, Ian's a liability but when we get to Baltimore we can start afresh, I'll adopt again. We'll be a proper family…"

"But he _is_ my family!"

"_No_, he's not." She sighed distractedly as she continued to open and close draws with a sharp snap.

"You…you…you _can't_ do this!" He wailed childishly.

"Watch me."

"But mother I…look I know I'm not supposed to say anything but…I've sorted it. Its ok, you don't need to worry anymore. He'll come willingly now!" Thomas tried his hardest to explain, to stay his mother's executing hands.

"_What did you do?" _She hissed angrily, her full attention finally on her son.

"You said he would never come willingly, that's why we have to restrain him. But Ian and I talked. He wouldn't come willingly before because of the fight he and his dad had. He was worried that his dad would think badly of him, so I sorted it," Thomas declared proudly. If he hadn't been restrained, Ian would have liked to hit him on the back of the head for being so damned naive.

"His dad? You sorted it with Ian's dad…"

"Y…yes…yes mother," Thomas stuttered at his mother's disapproving glare as doubt about telling her slowly began to sink in.

"You idiot! You fool…you…you! Gah!" She shouted angrily followed by the sound of a slap that resounded around the abandoned house followed by deathly silence. Ian could have almost felt sorry for the man who was the only reason Ian was alive right now, and then remembered that it was Thomas who was about to get him killed if he didn't shut up!

"Mother I…I'm sorry," Ian had to strain his ears to hear Thomas's whispered words.

"No baby, I'm sorry," She whispered back but Ian had a sinking feeling it wasn't for the slap.

"Mother…wait!" Thomas screamed as Ian's heart began to tremble in his sunken chest with every muffled footstep that slowly brought her closer and closer. "Mother please?!" Thomas screamed again, this time from the open doorway to Abigail's room.

"Open your eyes," She ordered crossly and kicked him hard in the side when he didn't reply. "I SAID OPEN YOUR GOD DAMN EYES!"

Wrenching them open, Ian let his eyes roll in his head until they found the cold and uncaring eyes of the Child Snatcher. She was there to kill him, he had no doubt about that, he could see the slight gleam and twinkle in her frosty glare as he lifted his head to ease the creak in his neck, the effort cost him vital strength.

"Did the message to your father have a warning in it?" She asked, crossing her arms demandingly.

"Erghf!" Ian tried to speak around the gag but it was impossible. He only ended up riding the gag deeper down his throat, choking him. Groaning with growing despair Ian rocked his body backwards and forwards as far as his restraints and lack of energy would allow, as he coughed and spluttered with pain until he managed to dislodge the gag enough to breathe once more.

"Fine," She rolled her eyes despairingly and with little patience. "Nod your head if the message my son sent to your father had a warning in it," She ordered through gritted teeth, her smile cruel and without remorse.

Refusing to answer, Ian waited patiently for the blow he knew was coming and wasn't left waiting long. Kicking him hard in the abdomen, Debbie watched with satisfaction as the wind was knocked out of him, causing him to fall painfully onto his side. Kneeling down beside him, she reached out and stroked the length of his body from shoulder to hip, from hip to thigh and back again. "Oh Ian," She whispered sweetly as her fingers played with the bloody locks of hair on the back of his head. "You bad…_bad_ boy." Picking up the fleecy blanket that Thomas had previously given Ian for warmth, Ian watched with mounting horror as she bundled it into a soft ball and placed it over his sweating face.

"Ahgft! Ahgft!" He tried to scream as his muscles began to spasm as they shook to fight her off.

"_Stop!_" Thomas shouted angrily as he stormed into the room and tried to pull her off him but she was freakishly strong, and determined. "We can leave, just please don't kill him."

"He lied to you Thomas." She grunted, pushing down harder as Ian's body slowed and his consciousness began to grow black at the edges.

"I see that now…I do…but that doesn't mean we need to kill him…" Thomas tugged and tugged, unable to dislodge her.

"His father isn't the reason he won't come with us willingly," She cried as she tried to shake her son off and lost her grip on Ian's face in the process.

"I don't care!" Thomas screamed as he tumbled backwards in the scuffle. "If you kill him, I won't forgive you this time!"

"Thomas," She nodded dumbly as she pulled the fleece away from Ian's face. "I'm only trying to look out for you. He lied to you. Betrayed us."

"What do you mean? How can you know that?"

"Your photo, do you have it?" she asked slyly, giving Ian, who was panting heavily as his lungs tried to pull as much oxygen back into his body as possible, a sinking feeling that he wouldn't like what she had to say next.

"It's him Thomas," She told her son, deliberately keeping the photo out of Ian's line of sight. "Ian won't come with us willingly because of him." She goaded her naïve son. "He didn't want you to know, but you were too cleaver for him. This man Thomas, he's the one keeping the two of you apart. He's the one Ian won't leave. He poisons Ian against you."

"But…I sorted it…with Ian's dad."

"No son that was a lie to get a message to this man. Kill him and we can be a family…the three of us. Together." Taking Ian's pistol from the back of her trousers, Debbie handed it to her son. "Kill him and you'll have the brother you've always wanted. You'll have Ian."

"And you promise you won't kill Ian if I kill this man?" Thomas asked once more, just for absolute clarity.

"I promise," She smiled a crocodile smile as she watched her son struggle with the decision.

"Ok. I'll be back as soon as I can. Be ready to leave when I am," He whispered as he weighed the gun uncomfortably in his left hand and then his right before taking one last look at Ian before leaving.

"You once said that I couldn't hurt you," She smiled smugly as she laid the photo down next to Ian's head. "Your move," She whispered in his ear before getting up and leaving the room.

Twisting and shifting his body, Ian turned to get a good look at the picture. The tears were already streaming down his cheeks before his eyes confirmed what his body already knew. "Ahgft! Ahgft!" He sobbed loud heaving cries of agony mingled with anger, the gag choking him as Charlie's boyish grin looked up tauntingly from the picture of them together on the floor.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

_*"Real science is 'discovery', Charles; not 'invention'. The truths are there whether we find them or not."- Dr. Larry Fleinhardt: Season 1, Episode 11: Sacrifice*_

***Same Day/**

**Cal Sci***

As the sun began to slowly dip in the tired sky, and the heavens gradually faded from clear blue to blood red, Thomas Oliver Danby sat patiently and watched as the large crowd began to quickly move away, seeking refuge from the cold crisp air in the warmth and comfort of their expensive cars, leaving a clear line of sight to Dr Charles Edward Eppes-his brother's lover and the man that Thomas was going to kill.

Leaning over on the passenger's side, of the car he had temporarily…'borrowed', Thomas reached behind the seat and into the back pocket to pull out the gun that he had stashed there earlier. It was Ian's gun and Thomas was surprised to find that it still weighed so heavily in his hands, not that he hadn't expected it to. It was just that he had felt such a connection to Ian that it was hard to swallow that something that was such a big part of him could feel so uncomfortable in his own hands.

_Never mind_, he thought sadly as he released the clip to check that the magazine was still fully loaded. Soon the only obstacle left standing between Ian and his family would be eliminated, only then could Ian finally see that his place was at Thomas's side. Brothers at last! Yes, Thomas's mother had been right. Charles Eppes had to die and die he would!

Pushing the clip back in, Thomas waited for the magazine to click before getting out of the car and following Dr Eppes as he made his way across the large, poorly lit, square car park to a blue Toyota Prius. They were the only ones left and only a few paces behind now, Thomas watched with interest as Charlie, whose arms were already piled high with folders and student's papers, pulled his keys from his suit jacket pocket to unlock his car, only to miss the lock altogether and accidentally drop them on the ground.

"Here, let me," Thomas smiled genially as he stooped down and plucked the keys up before Charlie even had a chance to turn around at the sound of his approaching footsteps.

"Th…thanks," Charlie replied gratefully, his cheeks and nose bright red as his breath formed little wispy clouds in the cool night air.

"Dr Eppes…right?" Thomas asked curiously as Charlie shifted the weight in his arms onto his hip, and held out his hand expectantly. _Too trusting_, Thomas couldn't help but think as he handed Charlie's keys over whilst simultaneously reaching under the back of his shirt to grab the gun that he had tucked into his waistband as soon as he had gotten out of the car. _I'll cure him of that._

"Yes," Charlie smiled as a car passed by, tooting their horn in recognition and interrupting Thomas before he could draw his weapon-he was only here for Charlie; there was no need for there to be any other casualties. "I feel like we've met before…do I know you?" Charlie asked confused as he tried valiantly to place Thomas's face, problem was that Thomas had dyed his hair to match Ian's, shaved and was even wearing Ian's sunglasses, despite the dying light, to obscure his face further. There was in fact, little of Doug Reynolds left about him and yet…and yet despite this, in some small way, Thomas couldn't help but feel a little bit slighted by the man's clearly vacant expression. What? Even a genius like Charlie Eppes must have learnt to join the dots at some stage! Could he not see the family resemblance?

"No," Thomas smiled sadly. Putting the being here to kill him aside, meeting your brother's boyfriend for the first time was supposed to be…fun! So why had Ian put him in such a position? Why this man? What did the great Dr Charles Eppes have that kept Ian from his family? From his brother! Looking the professor up and down, Thomas found him to be wanting. So how was it that this man could hold such dominion over Ian? For God's sake he was doing Ian a fucking favour killing Charlie! He was setting him free!

"Must be thinking of someone else," Charlie shrugged apologetically as he put the keys in the lock once more and opened the passenger side door.

"Maybe," Thomas bared his teeth menacingly as he put his arm out and slammed the door shut again, blocking Charlie's access, as the car that had passed by earlier finally faded away into the distance. There was nothing genial about Thomas now and Charlie knew it too. Watching with satisfaction, as Charlie sized him up for the first time with fear in his muddy brown eyes, Thomas took a step closer, closing the gap between them. "Drop the crap and follow me inside professor," Thomas practically growled his distaste as he pulled the gun out and levelled it at Charlie's chest. "We have _a lot_ to talk about."

***Meanwhile,**

**At The Old Danby Home***

"Street's secure Granger," FBI SWAT team leader, Tim King informed the small group of agents crowded around the monitors in the FBI's mobile SWAT unit as he opened the door and peered inside. "Barricade is up, pedestrians are being held back and the closest houses have been evacuated. I've got snipers in the houses opposite and to the back, all angles are covered."

"Thanks Tim," Colby nodded in reply as he moved over to make room for him as Nate continued to argue with agent Pierce.

"And I'm telling _you_ that storming the place is the last thing we want to do!" Agent Pierce crossed his arms defensively as Nate scowled in response. "We don't even know Ian's in there. We wait, get a line in there, _talk_ to her and pray to God that agent Edgerton is alive."

"_He's alive_ and we need to do more than pray," Nate threw his hands up dismissively, as he turned to Colby for support. "She hasn't made any demands and so far we've been subtle about being here. We have the element of surprise."

"_Surprise_ could get Ian killed," Elliott replied after several minutes of tense silence.

He could see that Colby desperately wanted to follow Nate blindly into the house but his brain told him not to. In fact Colby couldn't believe what he was about to say, but taking a deep breath, ploughed on anyway. "I agree with agent Pierce. Until we have a visual or a line in place we don't know what we're walking in on. For now we're to treat this as a hostage negotiation. Let's not make it a homicide investigation."

"Smart man," Pierce smiled smugly as Nate frowned his displeasure.

"Getting a line in there won't be easy and the dying light makes getting a visual tricky," Tim King pointed out from his place by the door. He was dressed in full black with his bullet proof vest and helmet on. He was also heavily armed and it was hard for the others _not_ to be a little intimidated. Even Elliott knew that the FBI SWAT was badass.

"What about thermal imaging?" Kevin Edgerton asked quietly from his seat in front of the monitors. Don had tried to convince the commander to stay with him at the FBI offices but Kevin had other plans and in the end Don hadn't pushed.

"It'd be great…if we had the equipment. Unfortunately it wasn't in the budget to get any…'apparently'," Tim air quoted sarcastically.

"I have a thermal scanner in the back of my truck…" Kevin replied evenly as he valiantly tried to hold back a yawn and failed. He was really tired, but he wouldn't be able to sleep till Ian was brought home safely, which he had no doubt he would…well ok, maybe some doubts.

"Of course you do," Pierce rolled his eyes but he was the only one.

"Technically it's Ian's," Kevin glared at agent Pierce as, at the mention of the scanner, agent King got up and opened the mobile unit's small door.

"Show me," Tim grunted as he held the door for the slightly limping Kevin to pass through first and gestured for him to lead the way.

"Wow…" Elliott and Colby exclaimed together when they reached the Humvee and saw into the boot as even agent Pierce looked on reluctantly impressed. The back of the Humvee was kitted out with several pieces of high end gear such as the thermal imaging scanner, night vision goggles, GPS, flares, flash bombs, smoke bombs and two sniper rifles-an M40A5 and a Remington model 700PSS-a personal favourite of Ian's. There were even spare ration packs and thermal underwear tucked to one side next to a fully packed backpack, tent, sleeping bag and spare boots. Ian was nothing if not efficient and prepared.

"Scan the house and get back to me," Colby ordered Tim as Nate showed him how to switch the scanner on.

"You know what you're doing," The SWAT leader appraised Nate impressed as he booted the necessary program.

"He was my instructor at Langley and we did a few missions together…besides, the scanner was a gift from me for his birthday," Nate smiled as he remembered the way Ian's face had lit up when he'd seen it. He'd been so excited to try it out that it had taken a lot of persuasion from Nate to coax him back to bed and even then he used it first to scan Nate's naked body...

"Good, then you show me how to use it," Tim smiled wryly. The scanner was more expensive and high tech than he was used to but then again what could he expect when it was a present from an ex-spook for and ex-spook?

"Meanwhile, we should try to get her talking on the phone," Pierce told the others as they made their way back to the van. "The more distracted she is the easier it will be for King and Hunter to get the scan completed undetected."

"That or it will alert her to the heavy FBI presence outside, if she doesn't already know that we're here. Besides…shouldn't we wait for a trained negotiator?" Elliott asked confused as they all crowded around the vans built in phone.

"Pierce is a trained negotiator," Colby replied, ignoring Pierce's attempt to take control. "The only problem is that the house has been abandoned for twenty years. There is no phone connection, hell there is no phone! And I'm not sending anyone up to the door to leave one on the doormat. No for now we sit and we wait for the thermal scan. Then we'll tactically plan how we're going to get inside."

"Sit and wait?" Pierce repeated dumbly.

"Yes Logan. Sit and wait," Colby replied sternly, raising a challenging eyebrow as he perched himself on the edge of the desk next to the phone and waited for Tim and Nate's return.

***In the Meantime,**

**Back at Cal Sci***

"Ok, now we're getting somewhere," Charlie told the mysterious gun man over his shoulder as he tucked his ID badge back into the pocket on his waistcoat. The security system was new, brought in by the new Dean of Cal Sci whilst Charlie had been away-unsurprisingly Charlie's old professor and friend Dr Larry Fleinhardt wasn't a fan. Apparently neither was Charlie's assailant.

"What's taking so long?" The man growled impatiently from behind as, what Charlie hoped was, the barrel of the gun, poked him uncomfortably in the back.

"It's new, I'm not used to the system yet," Charlie hissed back as he finished punching in his seven digit password.

"I thought you were supposed to be some sort of genius at these things?" The man mocked from behind, his impatience wearing thin.

"_No_, I'm a _mathematician_. I can tell you the value of pie to the nth degree, but computers aren't my forte. You want a computer expert then call my wife."

"_You're married_?" The man sounded shocked and a little scandalised.

"I don't know why it should matter to you, but yes I am. They want me to log you in. All I need is a name…" Charlie replied as he felt the inevitable thrust of the gun as the man's patience finally ran out.

"Do you think I'm stupid? Put anything! Hell put Ian's name for God's sake. _Just get it done!"_

Punching Ian's name in, Charlie pondered how this strange man knew Ian and what the connection was as somewhere deep in the heart of the building a computer logged him in, flashing him up on a surveillance camera for whoever was the officer on duty that night to see. _Can they see the gun?_ He wondered, but he didn't want to provoke the man by turning around to give the camera a little flash, especially when he had specifically told him not to.

"Where to now?" Charlie held his arms up in surrender as they made their way inside and hoped that the gesture would translate on the screen. His whole plan, however, hinged on the security officer being in the office and not on rounds.

"I want to see where the magic happens," The man smiled cruelly from behind as he grabbed a fistful of Charlie's shirt from between the shoulders and dug the gun into Charlie's neck. "To your office Mr Eppes and…no detours please."

With no choice but to comply, Charlie headed in the general direction of his office, his attacker matching him stride for stride, never releasing his grasp until rounding the last corner Charlie stopped dead, causing the man to barrel into the back of him and grunt his anger.

"Why'd you stop?" The man's warm breath tickled Charlie's ear from behind but Charlie wasn't paying his attacker any attention because his focus was on the soft glow spilling out from beneath his office door. Someone was in there and they were about to get a nasty shock. _What if it's Don?_ Charlie asked himself silently as he tried to work out what to do next. "I asked why you stopped," The man growled impatiently as he prompted Charlie to carry on with a hard shove between his shoulder blades, sending Charlie flying until he came crashing to the ground with a heavy thud. The soft glow illuminated his chocolate brown curls and dragged the man's attention away from Charlie to the room beyond.

***Back at the Old Danby House***

"Don't you think that it's a little creepy that we haven't heard a thing yet?" Elliott asked Colby disconcerted as the pair leaned companionably against the FBI SWAT's black mobile unit.

"She must know we are out here," Colby nodded as he looked down at his watch and frowned. "We've been here an hour, twenty minutes of which Nate and Tim have been scanning every inch of that house…we should have…heard or seen something by now. Maybe Nate was right. Maybe we should have stormed the house while we still had the element of surprise."

"And risk Ian's life?" Elliott asked surprised as he turned to face Colby. "You'd have done that?"

"Maybe…" Colby sighed indecisively. These were decisions that a team leader should be making not him…he'd never wanted the responsibility. The sooner he could step down from the position the happier he'd be!

"You've really been putting a lot of faith in the marshal and his opinions over the past twenty four hours…" Elliott observed as Colby shifted uncomfortably under the weight of Elliott's icy stare.

"Your point being?" Colby replied guardedly as he shoved his hands deep into his suit pockets.

"Well…I guess I was just wondering why you didn't storm the house then," Elliott shrugged indifferently as he copied Colby's defensive pose and folded his arms tightly.

"What does it matter now? If I remember correctly, you were against me storming the house anyway!" Colby pushed off from the van with his foot as he threw his hands into the air in disbelief.

"I still am…Col…Nate isn't Ian. You've been listening and following Nate as if he were," Elliott explained as he stood up straight and moved over to Colby's side. "You know what I think?"

"What?" Colby mumbled softly, refusing to turn and face the weight of Elliott's stare.

"I think you didn't storm the building because you know deep down that Ian wouldn't have stormed the building. He would have told you to hang back and assess the situation."

"You really think so?" Colby asked sadly, his voice crackling with emotion as he finally turned to look Elliott in the eye.

"Yes. Remember at the firing range? He took his time on every shot, learning the targets movement and routine first. True he takes the most phenomenal risks sometimes…but they're all calculated ones." Elliott smiled approvingly at Colby whether he felt he deserved it or not.

"Thank you," Colby smiled appreciatively as he spotted Tim and Nate making their way over. "Perhaps it's time to take one of those infamous calculated risks?" Colby raised an eyebrow at Elliott encouragingly, all doubt apparently gone as he gestured for Elliott to follow as he made to meet the pair half way. "Anything?" He asked hopefully once they were within earshot.

"We hope so," Tim smiled grimly as he clasped hands with Colby in greeting before handing over the thermal scanner.

"We only found one heat signature," Nate explained excitedly as he leaned in over Colby and Elliott's shoulders to point at a red, orange and yellow blob on the screen.

"Only one?" Elliott replied amazed. Whatever he was expecting it wasn't this.

"Ian?" Colby asked equally amazed and a little hopeful.

"We've been monitoring the signature," Tim explained as he pointed at the second story window. "The source of the heat is coming from that room and it hasn't moved once."

"How reliable are the scans?" Elliott asked sceptically, could it really be that Debbie Harris had 'popped' out somewhere and Ian was upstairs all alone, just waiting to be rescued?

"The scans are reliable," Tim nodded before turning back to Colby. "What's the plan?"

"To clear the house as we would in any other situation," Colby replied confidently as agent Pierce and Commander Edgerton finally joined the group.

"But this _isn't_ like any other situation!" Agent Pierce cut in disapprovingly. "We should try and approach the house properly first…that may not be Ian up there…what if she's already killed him and that's why there's only one heat signature!"

"Then we go in expecting the worse and hope for the best," Colby frowned at agent Pierce as the other men nodded agreeably. "Prepare your men agent King, _we're going in." _

***Meanwhile,**

**Back at Cal Sci***

"Please," Charlie begged from his position on the floor as his office door slowly began to open. Whoever it was inside had clearly heard the commotion and was coming to investigate. "Look out!" Charlie shouted in warning as his attacker raised the gun and pulled the trigger, causing wooden chips to fly out of the door frame from where the bullet landed.

"Charles?" Dr Larry Fleinhardt asked confused from his position on the ground. Thankfully, due to Charlie's warning, he'd had time to duck. He was bleeding, however, from where the wooden chips had dug themselves into his cheek on the way down. It really had been a close call but they weren't out of the woods yet!

"Get up!" The man shouted angrily as he made his way over to the doorway to check that there was no one else lurking inside.

"What are you doing here?" Charlie hissed as they both stood up together and brushed themselves down.

"Don sent me to make sure you stayed here…" Larry replied until he realised that their attacker was back and gesturing for them both to get into the office.

"He only sent you?" Charlie asked breathlessly as he tried his hardest to not make it sound like an insult.

"Enough talking," The man told them both as he pointed at the sofa with the barrel of the gun and grunted at them to take a seat as he locked the door behind them.

"I thought that you wanted to…to talk," Charlie replied more bravely than he felt as he pulled Larry by the arm to the large overstuffed couch on the south facing wall and sat down, dragging Larry with him.

"I said that we had a lot to talk about. I didn't say that it's all I came for," The man smiled callously as he crossed the room to stoop over Charlie, their faces inches apart. "I also came to kill you."

"Who _are_ you?" Charlie asked huskily as his body began to tremble from either anger or fear…it was hard to tell which.

"Who am I?" The man replied indignantly. "_I'm Ian's brother!"_

"Ian doesn't _have_ a brother."

"Danby," Larry whispered shocked as he reached out and grabbed Charlie's arm tightly.

"Thomas Danby?" Charlie shook his head disbelievingly. "I should have guessed."

"I think we're all a little surprised that you didn't," Thomas smiled bitterly as he gestured between himself and Larry with his free hand.

"Where's Ian, what did you do to him? Is he…is he ok?" Charlie replied angrily, his eyes flashing with concern. _His brother?_ _What was this nut job on?_ But Danby didn't reply. Instead he let the silence speared until it was deafening.

"Please," Charlie begged again as Larry watched on with horror. "Just tell me if he's still alive." Shaking violently now, Charlie watched with tearful eyes as, with a slightly shaking hand, Danby cocked the gun before shoving the barrel hard against Charlie's temple. "Please," Charlie begged again. "I just need to know that he's ok!"

"He's ok," Thomas replied after a minute as pulling back on the trigger he waited for the moment when his finger felt the tension and held it there. "He's ok…so long as I kill you…because if I don't? Then my mother is going to kill Ian. I can't see him dead. I won't let him die as well!"

"Then you had better shoot me," Charlie whispered softly, causing Larry to gasp with shock as Thomas leaned in closer to hear properly, his hot breath burning Charlie's cheek. "For I couldn't bear to see him dead either."

***Back at the Old Danby Home***

"All teams, GO, GO, GO!" Colby shouted loudly enough to be picked up by the wire in his ear attached to the back of his bullet proof vest as Nate stepped back, raised his foot and kicked the front door in, causing the door frame to splinter wildly as they and a few SWAT agents heard Elliott, agent Pierce and Tim breaching the house from the rear.

"CLEAR!" Nate shouted loudly as he, Colby and the others shuffled their way down the small corridor and together, opened and searched every room on the ground floor individually until Elliott, Pierce and Tim met them at the base of the stairs.

"Remember…as one," Colby nodded at his men as he let Nate and the others go upstairs before raising his own MP5A2 submachine gun and followed with pace.

"CLEAR!"

"CLEAR!"

"CLEAR!"

They all announced loudly as Colby made his way down the narrow hallway to the room at the end and the source of the sole heat signature on Ian's scanner. _On three_, He told Nate through a series of gestures as he reached for the door knob and quickly entered the room-swinging his gun in a wide arc as he quickly assessed the room.

It was a little girl's room with faded horses on the wallpaper and tattered curtains but was also instantly recognisable to Colby as Abigail Danby's old bedroom. There was no furniture in the room, save for an old wooden chair that had seen better days, for the legs were scuffed and nicked and the wicker seat broken on one corner. It was lying on its side and now Colby thought about it…one leg was coming loose...

"IAN?" Nate shouted loudly as Elliott and Pierce stormed into the room barrelling into the back of Colby who had halted at the sight of the human sized bundle curled up on the floor of the small room.

"WAIT!" Colby threw out a hand in warning as he shouted for Nate, who was crouching down next to the body, to stop. "Slowly…" Colby told him firmly as both Elliott and agent Pierce joined him in pointing their guns at the lump on the ground and nodded to Nate who holstered his own pistol before pulling back on the heavy blanket.

"What's the meaning of this?" Pierce gasped shocked from his position by the window as Nate finished pulling back on the blanket to reveal not Ian, but a woman handcuffed to the only radiator in the small room.

"Ahgft! Ahgft!" She screamed angrily as she kicked out with her chained feet, clipping Nate on the shins and sending him crashing backwards against the wall.

"Debbie?" Colby asked curiously as he swung his gun behind him on its strap as he bent down, out of range of her still thrashing feet, and brushed the loose tendrils of hair from her face to look at her properly. She was wearing black pants and a torn silk blouse that was ripped along the collar and was slightly coming undone across the chest to reveal a black lacy bra. Her hair was down and stained red from what looked like a nasty gash across the back of her head. She was dirty and sweaty and little red abrasions circled her wrists like bracelets from where the handcuffs were digging in.

"Ahgft! Ahgft!" she screamed again as he reached out and, at great risk to his fingers, pulled out the dirty rag that had been shoved into her mouth.

"Ms Harris," Colby smiled as she coughed and spluttered and banged her head on the dusty carpet, croaking for water. "My name is Agent Granger. The man you attacked is U.S Marshal Hunter; the ones pointing their guns at you are Detective Hayes and agent Pierce. Tell us where agent Edgerton is and maybe one of them will fetch you a drink of water…deal?"

"I don't know," She rasped from where she lay on the floor and groaned as Tim King entered with cutters and separated her from the radiator before re-handcuffing her hands behind her back.

"I think you do," Colby shrugged indifferently as Tim and the now recovered Nate manhandled her into a sitting position so that her back was pressed firmly against the cold radiator.

"And I told you I don't," She growled indignantly as she shook off their tight hold, causing the blouse to gape open further and reveal more cleavage.

"Want to try that again?" Elliott asked curiously as he holstered his weapon and reached down and picked up a scrunched up piece of paper off the ground. It was a piece of a photograph with a tear along one edge suggesting it had been torn at some stage. "I recognise this picture. It's one of the one's from Thomas's collection. This half is Ian and the missing half is of Charlie." Kneeling next to Colby, Elliott held out the photograph, his hand shaking slightly as he finally faced the LA Child Snatcher. "Is that where he went? To find Charlie? Where's Thomas? Where's your son?"

"I won't tell you anything!" She shouted furiously before spitting at him, which would have worked had her mouth not been so dry.

"I'll take that as a yes," He smiled smugly as she curled away repulsed by his ghostly glare.

"You're already too late!" She laughed manically as Colby stood up, grabbed his cell phone and left the room to call back up.

"Perhaps," Elliott shrugged as he too stood, towering above her. "That or your son just walked into a trap."

"What?" She looked up sharply, her kneels curling up under her chin defensively.

"Well…we already have agents at Cal Sci with Charlie you see. Thomas won't even get within an inch of him. As for Ian…he obviously didn't need our help…did he?" Elliott couldn't resist taunting the bitch that had made all of their lives miserable over the past months as he flicked his cold gaze on the broken chair under the window. "Debbie Harris, you are under arrest for the murders of Ellie Wilson, Faye Larson, Connie Burnett, Lilly Blake and Morgan Reid. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand these rights I have just read to you?"

"Go to hell."

"I'll take that as a yes," Elliott smiled as agent Pierce helped her up and led her limping from the room.

"We have people at Cal Sci?" Nate asked confused the second they were alone once more.

"Will and Brian were on their way over there over an hour ago…I'd better call Brian and give him a heads up. Tim we'll need you to go to the school in case we're too late…" Elliott explained as he too reached for his cell phone and started dialling. "I'd better tell them to keep an eye out for Ian as well…"

"You think he's gone after Charlie?" Tim asked equally confused.

"I don't think it, I know it." Elliott replied as he sighed his frustration. Brian wasn't picking up. "He took the photo didn't he?" He added when the pair didn't look convinced and dialled for Will instead.

"How would Ian even get there?" Tim added as he took out his radio and ordered his men to prepare to move out.

"It's Ian…he'd find a way," Nate replied soulfully as he nodded at Elliott and guided the SWAT leader out.

Will wasn't picking up either.

***Outside Cal Sci***

"Look…all I'm saying is that I understand why I was relegated to babysitting Charlie…what I don't understand is why you were. You were the one that told them where to go after all? It was a massive break, your break…" Brian shrugged confusedly as Will pulled up outside the old lecture hall. The lights were off and the poorly lit car park was completely deserted.

"Do you think we're too late?" Will asked uncertainly as he switched the ignition so that only the radio remained, plunging them into uncomfortable darkness.

"His car's still here," Brian replied, temporarily distracted in his line of thought as the stillness of their surroundings slowly began to unnerved him. "We should probably check it out…"

"He could be in his office, I say wait and see," Will suggested as he reached up and switched the overhead light on, flooding the cabin of the car with light and stretching the shadows around them.

"I dunno…" Brian shook his head, frowning as he took in the lateness of the hour on the car's digital display. "It's pretty late…"

"Hey, did you see that?"

"See what?"

"Someone by his car…"

"Are you playing me right now?" Brain looked sceptically as he shifted in his seat and searched the darkness for any movement.

"Come on," Will replied distractedly as he switched off the ignition altogether, unbuckled his seat belt and handing Brian his black fedora hat, climbed out of the car.

"Seriously?" Brian mumbled to himself as he put his hat on and climbed out.

Pulling the flashlight out of its holder as he switched it on, sending the shadows scurrying away like frightened forest animals, Brian slammed the door shut behind him, completely unaware of the fact that his phone had slipped out his pants pocket in the process and moved to follow Will across the parking lot to Charlie's small Toyota Prius.

"Hello? Anyone there?" Will called out loudly as he pulled his own flashlight and gun from their holsters and crossing his arms, aimed the gun at Charlie's car.

"FBI," Brian called out as the beam of his flashlight travelled from the car's rear fender and illuminated the large, small, long and circular shaped scars on a man's bare, muscled back. The man was crouched over a large pile of paper and card that looked like spilled files. He was naked, save for a pair of black trousers that looked a little tight, and out of place. "Identify yourself," Brian shouted nervously as the stranger slowly stood and began to turn to face the two agents.

"Ian?" Will gasped shocked, the first to recognise the stranger before them, because the man had a wild look in his eyes that was so far removed from the man that Brian had come to know and respect that he was almost unrecognisable. "How did you get here? Tell me you didn't drive!" Will shouted concerned for Ian who looked a little out of it and unsure of his surroundings.

Quickly holstering their weapons the pair hurried over as Ian backed away a little like a startled rabbit from their eagerness. He was shivering from a cold that his face suggested he wasn't even aware of as he watched uncomprehendingly as Brian took off his bullet proof vest and approached him slower this time. It wasn't much but Ian looked grateful for the small sliver of warmth it provided as Brian placed the vest over Ian's head and velcroed it closed at the sides. "What I really need is a gun," Ian croaked, his voice barely above an audible rasp as for the first time in his life, Brian was at a loss for words.

"Sorry, I'm not carrying an extra piece," Brian frowned as he looked over at Will who also looked at a loss for words under the flickering light of a dying streetlamp.

"What's with the files?" Will asked instead as he pointed his flashlight at the mountain of paper and card on the ground as Brian crouched down to examine the series of graphs and equations that neither of them could have even begun to understand in a month of Sundays.

"Their Charlie's," Ian stated matter of fact as he shifted his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot as he scanned the parking lot with the hooded gaze of a hawk stalking his pray. "Keys are in the door…he's here…"

"Who's here?" Brian asked confused as he stood up to examine the keys.

"Thomas. He's here and he has Charlie…"

"You can't know that for sure," Will replied inanely, trying to settle the agitated agent and failing miserably.

"I can because I know Charlie. He isn't exactly a chuck your files and student papers on the ground and abandon your car with the keys still in the door kinda guy," He smiled grimly, ripping the long cut down the length of his face open at the bottom where it was still healing, causing him to wince and hunch his shoulders in pain.

"Say he does have Charlie…where would he take him?" Brian asked seriously, ignoring Will as he moved over to Ian's side and folded his arms curiously, waiting for the other agent's answer.

"If it was me…I'd go inside. It's a lot quieter…more private…his office maybe?" Ian replied as he grasped Brian's arm tightly. "Look…he's here to kill him ok. I'm the only one who can talk him down…if we're not already too late!"

"Then we'd better get going," Brian nodded understandingly as he un holstered his gun once more, crossed his arms at the wrists and pointing it in the direction of the school made his way across the deserted parking lot once more, passing Will's car in the process-where Brian's phone was still silently vibrating away on the passenger seat.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

_*"Until we find dead bodies, this is still a search and rescue."- Don Eppes: Season 2, Episode 2: __Better or Worse__*_

***Same Night,**

**The FBI Offices***

Still clutching the mobile tightly in his white fist to his slightly heaving chest, SAIC Don Eppes sat alone in the darkness of his large office and tried his hardest to digest everything that Colby had just told him. Ian was alive, they had the La Child Snatcher in custody, Ian had escaped…Charlie was in danger…Brian and Will weren't picking up their phones and all of this had been over half an hour ago! A whole thirty, long, minutes with no news on whether or not his brother was alive, on whether or not his last words to his brother would be 'we'll deal with this later'. This was all Don's fault. He hadn't known what to say to his brother, so he'd sent him off to his 'big lecture' and told him to stay there. He'd thought that he would be safer…no that was a lie…Don hadn't wanted to be distracted and the news about Ian and Charlie had certainly been that!

"Don?" Robin asked quietly from the small crack that she had created in the doorway, her body half in half out of the room. She was wearing a loose purple silk shirt under a waistcoat that matched the pin stripes of her black trousers. The sleeves of her shirt were rolled up to her elbows, which was surprising considering how neat and meticulous she usually was concerning her appearance. She always claimed that as the DA she had to look the part as well as act it and her sleeves were not the only peculiarity to her outfit. Her long brown hair was down when she usually wore it up at work. Nevertheless, Don liked the way the loose wave of her hair caressed her pale cheeks and was grateful for the comfort that the sight of this softer Robin gave him, so didn't question any of it.

"Rob," His voice cracked emotionally on the word as tears sprang to his eyes and his fiancée made her way to his side, pushing the door open wide so that the light of the corridor illuminated the hard plains of his office with a soft blue glow. "What if I've lost him?"

"Don?" She asked as she sat down next to him on the couch and put her arm around him, hugging him to her.

"I can't lose him Rob," Don whispered back as the first hot splash of his tears burnt their way down her small shoulder. "He has to know that I love him."

"He knows Don," She sat back as she cupped her fiancé's cheek so that he would look her in the eyes and see that it was true. "Look at me Don," She ordered firmly when his gaze slipped away to stare ashamedly into the shadowy recesses of the room. Stroking the tears away with her thumb, Robin waited patiently until Don finally met her gaze once more. "_He_ _knows._"

"How could he?" Don asked again uncertainly, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "He finally worked up the courage to tell me that he's gay and in love with Ian and I told him 'we'll deal with this later'. He probably thinks I hate him!"

"Wait…what?" Robin shook her head confused, startled by Don's sudden declaration. He had forgotten that Charlie had only told _him_ earlier that night…was it really the same night? It had felt like an eternity to Don.

"He_…'came out'_…earlier this evening," Don shook his head sadly, berating himself again for being so damned insensitive. "He was mad. He knew that Ian was missing and we wouldn't listen." Damn it Nick was right. He could have said anything, done anything. He should have given Charlie a hug…what if he couldn't put it right? What if he couldn't put any of it right? Don couldn't live with the guilt. "They said that Ian wasn't there when they stormed the building…he's out there somewhere, possibly on his way to Charlie…judging from the blood found at the scene…who knows what state he's in…and I just…I don't know what to do anymore. It's all just so out control…"

"Ok…first of all wow…secondly, Don…Honey, Charlie knows, ok maybe he was disappointed at how you handled the situation…but it is _a lot_ to process. It doesn't mean he'll ever stop loving you or think that you don't love him back. Besides, he's going to be ok…I know he is and you can sort it all out then. As for Ian," Robin smiled softly as she held Don's hand in hers and squeezed it tightly. "Even on his worst day, Edgerton is the best man I know to have your back. If he is on his way to Charlie, then you really don't need to worry!"

"I know," Don sighed frustrated. "I do…it's just…I can't help it Rob. It's like I can't breathe! And this cast! I swear to God, if it wasn't there then I'd be on my way to that school right now…"

"Then don't let it stop you," Robin smiled determinedly as she stood up and handed Don his crutches. "You may not be able to do much but stand to one side and direct…but you'd be there and you would know what's going on as it happens."

"Nick told me to stay here…help book in Debbie Harris," Don protested weakly as he let Robin propel him to his feet.

"Agent Pierce has it under control as far as I heard," Robin smiled again as she reached into her pocket and pulled out her car keys. "I'm driving…what do you say?"

"I say that you're right. I can't just sit around here in the dark…but you aren't driving."

"What?"

"I'll take Nikki…Rob I need you here, where it's safe."

"Don! No!"

"_No_! Don't argue with me on this! Robin, I might lose him…but I couldn't stand it if I lost you too. I don't know how this is going down…Tim and the boys are on their way to Cal Sci but…Charlie might not even be there anymore. Please…_please_, stay."

"Ok," She replied reluctantly as she stepped back out of the way so that Don could get past on his crutches. "Call me when you know…_anything_." She added when he turned back in the doorway and gave her a final nod of determination.

"I love you," He smiled faintly before disappearing completely, leaving Robin in the haunting glow of Don's empty office.

"I love you too," She told the empty room sadly as she hugged her arms to her sides. _Dear God let him be safe,_ she pleaded silently as she slumped back down onto Don's impossibly soft couch. He was right, she was needed here. She just wished that she could be there for him. _Please_, she thought again as she squeezed her eyes tight and wished with all her heart this time, _Please God, bring him home safe._

***Meanwhile,**

**At Cal Sci***

"You know how to bypass the security?" Brian looked over his shoulder uncertainly at Ian who had collapsed against the wall and was wincing with pain as he clutched at his shoulder uncomfortably.

"No," He shook his head a fraction as his chest rose and fell with noisy, rattling breaths. "Believe it or not but I'm not very tech savvy. In the CIA they gave us…special toys…for situations like these and then there really isn't much security when chasing fugitives."

"Then there's nothing we _can_ do. We'll just have to go back and wait for back up," Will replied worriedly as he moved over to the glass security door and peered inside at the dark empty corridor that just screamed 'and they never saw them again'.

"No," Ian grunted in reply as he got up and pointed at the glass door. "We're going in, just not that way."

"How do we then?" Will asked sceptically as Ian took a few unsteady steps towards the window next to the door and attempted to lift the window up but it refused to give way.

"Here," Brian told him as he all but pushed Ian aside to get to the window. "Will, grab the other end."

"Really? This school has the most advanced security I've ever seen, built by boffins with far superior intellect than ours, and your response is to try and get in through a window?" Will asked sceptically as, regardless of his own feelings, he took hold of the other side of the window and on the count of three began to pull till the latch eventually gave way to their combined strength. "What now?"

"Now we climb in and wait for the security officer to arrive," Ian grimaced as he eyed the window unhappily, his determination to find and save Charlie the only thing keeping him going.

"Security officer?" Brian asked confused as Ian hunched over, ready to pull himself through.

"I've come to know that wherever there's a high tech security system there's usually a rent a cop not far away," Ian looked back over his shoulder at Brian and attempted to smile, though his heart was far from in it.

"But how will they know that we're here?" Brian asked confused as he also began to eye up the small window sceptically.

"Because as Will so nicely reminded us…this is a school for overachievers_ and _boffins," Ian grumbled irritably, losing patience as their conversation dragged on, unnecessarily in his eyes. "Besides I know the guy who designed it, gave him some pointers. The security officer will know we are here because the second we enter this window the schools on board computer will pick up that there are more people in the school than was logged in using the electronic keypad, that's right it can really sense that. Then it will set off a silent alarm that will alert the man on duty of our presence and location. He'll come, we'll explain the situation and then we go find Charlie. Ok?"

"You sure it's silent?" Will asked concerned as Ian lifted one leg in so that he was straddling the wall before lifting the other over so that he was sitting on the window's ledge.

"I don't," He threw back over his shoulder as he let go of the ledge and took a couple unsteady steps in side. When no alarm sounded he turned back to see Brian straddling the window as he had. "See…no alarm," Ian grinned a little hysterically as clutching at his shoulder again he waited for Will to join them in the corridor before suggesting that they pull their badges out ready. "I lost mine when Debbie Tasered me," He shrugged as he explained to Brian why he wasn't pulling out his own.

"Hands up where I can see them!" Someone shouted from the end of the corridor, shattering the silence with his booming voice and making the three agent's jump as they turned to see the rent a cop with his weapon pointed straight at them.

"You took your time!" Ian smiled back as both Brian and Will as they threw their arms up and held their badges high enough for the man to see. "FBI, stand down sir."

"Chuck your badges over here so I can check them," The tall, bald headed and highly muscled man called out as he made his slow progress towards them, stopping only a meter away as both Brian and Will looked at Ian to see whether they should.

"Chuck them over," Ian smiled friendly as he raised his own arms a fraction higher and took a step towards the hostile man. "I'm agent Edgerton; they're agent Chase and Detective Hamilton."

"State your business," The man grunted as he crouched down to pick up the badges, his gun still pointed at them.

"You have a gunman holding a professor hostage; we're here to make contact. The window was so that he wouldn't know that we're here yet," Ian explained but could see the look of disbelief in the man's questioning eyes as he reached out blindly for the badges, refusing to break eye contact, his gun never wavering.

"I think I would know if that was the case!" The man scoffed, pissing Ian off. He hated time wasters, and Charlie's life depended on this man! It was ridiculous. Fate laughing in his face after everything he had been through just to make it to this moment!

"And I'm telling you that it is," Ian frowned as the man finally located the badges, his eyes darting away from Ian's for a second in triumph.

Reaching out with lightening reflexes, despite his injuries and lack of food-spurred on purely by his need to find and save Charlie, Ian seized the man's extended arm in his and locked it under his armpit before pulling back hard on his little finger until the man's eyes watered and he dropped the gun as he yelped with pain. Kicking the gun across to Brian, Ian released the now swearing security guard and watched as he scrambled to his feet in anger.

"Stand down," Will told him firmly as he levelled his own gun at the man, so quick to react that even Ian missed him unholstering his weapon.

"Sorry about that," Ian told the now fuming security officer as he brushed past him to swap their badges with Brian for the gun. "I'm borrowing this," He informed them all as he pulled back on the top, cocking the gun so that there was a round ready in the chamber. "But there really is no time to waste. Will, take…what is your name?"

"Harry."

"Take Harry back to his desk and watch the security feeds. Brain and I will head for Charlie's office. Let us know if we're about to be ambushed at any stage…" Ian ordered grimly as he moved down the hallway, swifter than he felt and without waiting to make sure whether Brian was even following.

"Is he always like that?" Harry asked confused more than anything else, his anger temporarily diverted as he watched dumbfounded at the retreating form of Agent Edgerton.

"On a good day? He's better," Brian grinned as he unholstered his own gun and flashlight and rushed down the corridor to keep up with the surprisingly agile agent Edgerton.

***Back at the FBI Offices***

Pushing herself backwards away from Ian's makeshift desk, Liz watched through the open doorway of the FBI bull pen with interest as the elevator chimed, signalling the arrival of the LA Child Snatcher and Liz wasn't the only one to stop she noticed. All around her the whole department ground to a halt as agents of every division stopped to watch the slow march of Debbie Harris on her way to interrogation. Spotting Liz from his position behind Debbie, Agent Logan Pierce gestured for Liz to meet him in the small observation booth sandwiched between the two interrogation rooms. The other was empty for the time being, but with any luck they would soon have the LA Child Snatcher _and_ her accomplice in custody.

Getting up and throwing the file that she had been reading back onto Ian's mess of a desk, Liz made a conscious effort to smooth out the wrinkles of her two day old dress as she tried to remember the last time any of them had gone home and gotten a proper sleep.

"Liz," Agent Pierce said warmly from where he was perched on the edge of the small metal desk as she entered the small observation booth. His voice was deep and hypnotic and for a moment, Liz's sleep deprived brain watched with appreciation as he ran a hand through his thick wavy hair and smiled handsomely, his cheeks dimpling boyishly as an embarrassed flush worked its way up his thick neck.

"Logan," she smiled prettily in response as she moved to stand next to him, only inches away as she turned to face the room opposite. To think…she and the La Child Snatcher were only separated by a thin sheet of glass that let her look in unobserved...

"She's not exactly what you'd have expected…is she?" He asked her barely above a whisper, as if he was wary that Debbie might be able to hear somehow. He had a point however; she really wasn't what Liz had expected-even when they had found out that the LA Child Snatcher was a woman not a man as they had originally believed.

Debbie had to be pushing sixty and yet she looked like she could have easily been late thirty's early forties, most likely a result of a lot of Botox! She was also very toned, with strong muscled arms and legs and a hard flat stomach, though it wasn't as easy to see in the orange jump suit that another female agent was busy dressing her in so that she could take the ripped blouse and trousers away for processing. Debbie's once silky smooth hair was half in, half out of its combs which were probably knotted into her now matted hair that had lost all gloss and shine under the clumps of dried blood that had plastered her hair to the back of her skull. There were also other wounds around her wrists and ankles, a dark purple smudge of a bruise on her left cheek…it was strange, to look at her you could almost believe that she was the victim not the suspect and Liz found it hard to believe that she could feel any sympathy for that…that monster…and yet she did. What did that say about her? She wondered sadly as Logan shifted to rest his hands behind him and accidently put his hand on hers.

"Sorry," He blushed furiously as he snatched his hand back and got up to move closer to the observational window, arms folded and shoulders tense.

"It's ok…" She replied confused as the female agent in the other room handcuffed Debbie to the rail bolted to the interrogation room's metal table before giving them thumbs up on the way out.

"Time to get some answers," Logan told her from his position by the window before taking a deep breath and opening the door that led to the interrogation room and sat down opposite Debbie Harris who smiled to see him.

"Hello handsome, come to cop another feel?" Debbie grinned manically as Liz followed agent Pierce into the room, shutting the door behind her before sitting down in the uncomfortable plastic chair next to Logan and opposite from Debbie. "Ooo a threesome…" Debbie smiled provocatively as she leaned back in her chair and gave Liz an appraising glance before turning back to agent Pierce. "She's pretty…your girlfriend?"

"This is agent Warner."

"Sorry…is agent Warner your girlfriend?" She smirked impossibly at the two stone faced agents as she reached out across the desk to grab agent's Pierce's left hand. "I'm disappointed agent Pierce, I really thought we had something…special."

"Why don't you drop the act and do yourself a favour and confess," Logan replied irritably as he moved his hand away from Debbie's stroking fingers.

"And why would I do something like that? I'm innocent." She smiled sweetly, her smug attitude melting away as, if it was possible, she appeared even younger, more innocent…fragile.

"We found the storage locker with Morgan Reid's fresh corpse. We know that it was _you_ that committed the murders," Logan shook his head disbelieving. Damn it, she was going to claim insanity!

"Aren't you clever," She squinted poisonously at him once more, the sweet innocent college girl smile replaced with a pout. "I still fail to see your point, however."

"LA has the death penalty," Liz replied pleasantly, her tone light as if she was talking about the weather or where to go for dinner, making Logan forget his place in their own charade. Was he good cop or bad cop? And what was it that was making Liz smell so damned good?

"Here's the thing Debbie. We have enough evidence to prove that you murdered the girls. Confessing is you're only option if you want to avoid the chair," Logan told her straight and if he wasn't mistaken she even looked a little scared underneath her bravado.

"Ok agent Pierce…I'll make you a deal," She smiled up at him from beneath her lashes. "I'll confess..."

"Good."

"I'm not finished!"

"What do you want?"

"I'll only confess to agent Edgerton," She giggled inanely as Logon sprang to his feet and slammed his palm flat on the top of the metal table.

"Not a chance!" He shouted impassionedly as Debbie rose to her feet as well, though hunched forwards as her hands were still securely fastened to the table.

"That's my condition," She told him firmly, her face lighting up with triumph when Logan backed away with disgust.

"No," Liz replied equally firm, unimpressed by the crazy woman in front of her. "That's your choice. See you in court."

"He'll come…he is _family _after all!" She laughed hysterically as the two agents left the room to enter the observational booth once more.

"What do we do now?" Liz asked Logan's rigid back quietly as she closed the door and locked it behind her.

"Nothing," He sighed sadly, as his shoulders slumped and he turned to face the crazy woman on the other side of the glass who was still laughing so hard that her whole body shook with it. "We don't know where Ian is and I doubt he'd want to talk to her if we did. She's playing so sort of game…why should we indulge her by playing along? She either confesses or she doesn't. Personally I hope she doesn't…I've never met someone more deserving of the chair."

"Personally…I hope she does confess," Liz replied as she came up behind him, their bodies inches apart and yet she could still feel the heat that radiated from his body.

"Even knowing what we know? That life never really means life?" He turned around so fast that he was caught off guard by her proximity.

"She's close to sixty. Life means life. Besides…she's so…so arrogant and proud. I hope she spends the next thirty years living each and every indignity of the prison system!" Liz replied passionately, her mouth in line with his chiselled chin and her eyes in line with his sumptuous mouth.

"Put like that…the death penalty does see a little…easy," He smiled his boyish dimpled smile, his earlier embarrassment seemingly forgotten as he watched with delight as Liz lost her place in the conversation. He knew she had a crush on Granger but was it possible that she had one on him too? Usually he tried to keep his distance from Don's team…he wasn't exactly popular amongst them…but Liz, Liz was beautiful and exotic and smart and man did he want to kiss her right now!

"We need to phone Don…let him know we struck out," She whispered as she dipped her gaze away from his and stepped away slowly, letting the charged air between them fizzle out.

Disappointed, Logan nodded instead of replying as he watched her slip embarrassedly out of the small room. Confused and more than a little dazed, Logan turned back to look at the prisoner once more.

"Where are you?" He asked the glass sadly, but the question was meant for Ian not Debbie. "What did she do to you?" Sitting back, agent Pierce perched on the small metal desk once more. She was screaming at the glass now. Cruel hateful things, a lot of them directed at Ian. Did she really think that Ian was here? Behind the glass…watching? If she did she would probably be disappointed to know that it was just him. What was with her obsession with Edgerton anyway? He wondered. Would they ever really know? He supposed it didn't matter, so long as justice was served and they would make damned sure that it would! For Ian.

***For the time being,**

**Back at Cal Sci***

"Are you ok?" Brian asked concerned as he crouched down next to Ian who was slumped exhaustedly against some lockers clutching at his shoulder.

"Fine," Ian lied through gritted teeth as he tried his best to catch his breath. It was easy to pretend in front of the security guard that he was the old Ian Edgerton, ex-spy and kickass FBI agent, but here, alone in the dark with Brian he found he had no more energy to keep it going.

He was just so tired…and it had been almost impossible for him to keep up the pace and now? One corridor away from Charlie's office and his muscles were cramping, his heart felt like it was trying to rip itself from his chest and he was so winded that his lungs felt like they were collapsing! Ian Edgerton 'resident badass' had nothing left to give…and yet…he wouldn't abandon Charlie. He wouldn't walk away and hope that back up arrived in time. Ian was the only one who could talk Thomas down. So despite the fact that his shoulder was sore from the still too recent bullet wound and the pain in his muscles from being chained to a radiator for a few days…Ian was going to man up and get it done.

"Liar," Brian smiled fondly at the man he had instantly admired all those weeks ago and now deeply respected. "It's not too late to turn back…"

"No!" Ian whispered as loudly as he dared. "I'm going in there…I just need a minute…" It was the closest Ian had ever come to admitting weakness in front of another and hated how it made him feel.

"Ok but I'm going in with you," Brian told him firmly but Ian was already shaking his head even as he grunted out another no.

"You're my back up…if Thomas sees you then my plan can't work. Please Brian, I need you to wait outside and come if needed."

"Ian," Brian replied shaking his own head as he got up and peered around the last corner at Charlie's office, illuminated slightly by the distinct glow that was escaping from beneath the office door. "You're in no condition to go in there, not alone anyway."

"And yet I must," Ian replied as he straightened his back and pushed himself up so that he was standing upright, one hand still resting on the locker for support. "I love him Bri. If Thomas sees you…he'll kill Charlie…and I don't know how I could keep going if that happened. I love him…please…I'm counting on you," Ian pleaded as he rested his free arm on Brian's strong shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"This is a mistake…" Brian shook his head, already relenting under the weight of Ian's tortured gaze. _Just what had this man been through?_ Brian wondered silently and he wasn't just wondering about the recent abduction. There was a sadness in Ian…one that Brian couldn't help but relate to.

"Thank you," Ian replied relieved as he let out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. "You're a good detective and you're going to be a better agent."

"How did you know?" Brian gasped shocked, _was there anything this man didn't know?_ He'd only told Elliott and even then it was _after_ Ian had been kidnapped…

"I recognised the look in your eyes, that steely determination…the way you got stuck into the case, your partnership with Will... It was kind of obvious when you think about it. You're bored in homicide and underrated! But FBI? I can see you really thriving there."

"My dad think's I'll embarrass myself," Brian looked away hurt as he thought about the source behind most of his childhood insecurities. "I became a cop because we're a cop family…you can't be anything else, not that I ever wanted to be anything else that is!"

"It's ok. I understand…my foster father Kevin didn't want me to join the army and definitely didn't approve when I became Special Forces…it's hard sometimes I guess…when you have a standard to live up to…"

"I know what you mean. It's understandable I guess…the way I acted when I first joined the force. I only joined vice to stick it to him. 'We're Hamilton's' he'd always say. 'People expect more from us'. So finally I moved into homicide…you know when vice was no longer a challenge. I thought proving myself on the hardest streets of LA might…mean something…but he told me I was embarrassing myself." Turning his back on Ian to catch his breath, Brian tried to calm the mix of anger and disappointment that swelled beneath his breast every time he thought about his father and that dismissive frown of his. "I thought telling him I was thinking of joining the FBI might make him finally see that I am being serious now. Responsible even! But no…once more all I hear is, 'You'll only embarrass yourself'."

"Embarrass yourself or embarrass him? There is a difference you know." Ian smiled warmly as he turned the detective round to face him once more. "All I've seen since you've worked with us is your enthusiasm, your commitment and your hard work. I'll be insulted personally if you don't apply because the second you finish Quantico, I'll be requesting you on my team."

"Your team?" Brian replied amazed at the passion with which Ian spoke.

"Don asked me to take his old job as team leader and he don't know it yet but I'm accepting," Ian nodded in reply as he tucked the gun in the back of his pants, which was a bit of a squeeze considering how tight they were!

"Ian?" Brian stopped him before Ian could move away.

"Yes?"

"Did he…your dad I mean…did he ever change his mind?" Brian hated the weakness he could hear in his voice, but he had to know…

"No," Ian replied honestly and hated seeing the young officer across from him cringe. "I did a lot of things I'm not proud of...war is different than you think it will be…" He tried to explain but found himself failing to do so. "My father knew that…didn't want it for me. It doesn't mean he stopped loving me…as I'm sure your father loves you."

"Oh," Brian nodded, the dark thankfully hiding the tears that had sprung to his eyes as Ian dashed what little hope he'd had left.

"Look," Ian sighed sadly as he raked his hand through his greasy hair. "I've made a lot of poor decisions in my past but for me…joining the army wasn't one of them. I stand by the work I did whilst in the Special Forces even if I don't stand by the methods I often used. I was a different man then. But without it…I wouldn't be who I am today, which hopefully…is a man my father _can_ be proud of. You're young Bri. You have plenty of chances ahead of you to embarrass yourself and your father. Joining the FBI wouldn't be one of them. Have faith that you know better than him right now…and you'll be ok."

"Thanks," Brian smiled weakly as Ian nodded in reply before turning and gesturing at the door all the way down the long corridor. "I'll go, get inside and then you set up next to the door."

"Ok," Brian agreed reluctantly as Ian started his slow walk down the corridor to Charlie's office, where God knows what awaited them.

***Meanwhile,**

**Outside Cal Sci***

"DON!" Nick shouted angrily over the shoulder of Tim King who was too busy talking into his radio to see what Nick had seen, which was Don and Nikki making their slow way across the Cal Sci parking lot to the SWAT unit that Tim had used at the old Danby house. "I told you to stay at the office!" Nick demanded as soon as his oldest friend was properly within earshot and shot Nikki a 'get lost' look that was less polite than he actually realised, he was just that angry.

"That was half an hour ago!" Don shouted back just as mad. "You said you'd update me!"

"And I will when we actually know anything. It's _only_ been half an hour. You know how this works. Hostage negotiations go on for hours. Tim's only getting his men in to place now." Nick sighed tiredly, the anger seeping away as he glimpsed the tortured gaze that Don was doing a good job of hiding.

"I'm the SAIC, this is my case…" Don replied weakly, pleading with his best friend to understand.

"And if you think you can _be _SAIC first and brother second…then you're wrong."

"Then you don't really know me very well," Don looked away stung as if Nicks words had physically hurt him. "For I will be whatever and whoever my brother needs me to be."

"Nick? Don?" Tim asked as he broke the awkward tension between the pair, who had actually forgotten he was even there.

"Tim?" Nick asked without looking away from Don, whose whole body had bristled at the interruption.

"My men are in place and have a visual on the room. Thomas is holding Charlie, Larry and Ian hostage in Charlie's office just as Will told us…"

"Larry is there?" Nick asked confused as he finally broke his staring match with Don to look at the SWAT leader with shock.

"I sent him here to look after Charlie after the lecture…I forgot all about it…are they ok? Is anyone hurt?" Don asked worriedly as he too looked at the SWAT leader with apprehension. This was a mess, Don's mess and at every turn he seemed to be making it worse and worse.

"They're all ok," Tim nodded at both agents but Don noticed something slightly off about the way Tim was wringing his hands nervously.

"What's wrong?" Don and Nick asked together making the poor man jump guiltily.

"There's no sign of Brian. He has no phone and no radio…there's no way of contacting him."

"And that's a problem?" Nick asked confused.

"So long as Brian _stays_ hidden…then no. It shouldn't be. I just don't like players on the field that I can't communicate with," Tim sighed frustrated as he rubbed tiredly at his eyes. It had been a long night.

"Your men are all in place then?" Nick reiterated as he bit his lip uncertainly.

"Yes. Your orders sir?" Tim asked formally as he looked from Don to Nick.

"Fingers off triggers _for the time being_," Nick replied as Don let out an audible sigh of relief. Last thing he wanted as some gun-ho SWAT officer putting holes in his men…or his brother by mistake. Nodding, Tim left them to it to relay their orders to his men.

"Thank you," Don told his friend gratefully, but Nick refused to turn and look.

"Don't thank me yet," He whispered before turning on his heel to brief the rest of their own team.

***Charlie's Office***

"Then you had better shoot me," Charlie whispered softly, causing Larry to gasp with shock as Thomas leaned in closer to hear properly, his hot breath burning Charlie's cheek. "For I couldn't bear to see him dead either."

"You really love him…don't you?" Thomas stepped back shocked as he considered the man before him.

"Yes."

"And you'd give your life…for his?"

"Yes."

"Thank you," Thomas replied honestly as he let out a huge sigh of relief. "_Thank you_."

"Just…just tell him…"

"Anything!" Thomas replied eagerly as he dropped down to his knees in front of Charlie and looked up with such childish innocence and glee that it was almost impossible to believe that the _man_ at his feet was still pointing a gun at him.

"Tell him that I love him, that I think I always did. My biggest regret in life was letting him get away. I knew that being with Amita was wrong and yet I let myself believe that it was right. I hurt a lot of people by denying myself…denying the way I felt. My second biggest regret was that I didn't tell him when we first met. I knew then that I had feelings for him and I should have acted on them. I wasted six years that I know in my heart we could have enjoyed…even with all his traveling."

"Is that everything?" Thomas asked sadly, tears in his eyes.

"One last thing…" Charlie replied, his voice rough with loss. "Tell him that he is a good man. He doesn't always believe it…I don't want him blaming himself for this…tell him he is a good man. Let him know that he is loved."

"Done," Thomas smiled as he stood once more and loomed over Charlie and Larry, bigger, more exuberant than ever.

"Charlie! No!" Larry cried in a last ditch effort to stop his friend from sacrificing himself.

"Larry," Charlie smiled warmly as the tears dropped from his eyes and stained his pale cheeks. "It's ok. Tell dad I'm sorry…and tell Don that none of this is his fault. That I love him. I love you all."

"Ready?" Thomas asked after the two professors, both in tears, finished embracing.

"Ready," Charlie replied, getting up from where he sat to stand before the man that was going to kill him. "But first…I beg of you one last favour."

"What?" Thomas asked confused and a little put out. The sooner Charlie's Eppes died the sooner he could get back to the house…and Ian. How long had he been here anyway?

"Actually it's a favour from both of you. I want to be facing a friend when I die…and Larry has to go free after," Charlie replied as he knelt down and faced Larry.

"I only came for you. Larry is free to go after," Thomas replied honestly as he pressed the gun to the back of Charlie's skull. "Goodbye professor!"

"THOMAS!" Ian shouted loudly from the other side of the locked door, made louder by the echo of the empty corridor.

"Ian?" Thomas swivelled around confused and raced to the door and unlocked it.

Bursting into the room, Ian quickly surveyed the scene before him. Larry was in tears on Charlie's amazingly soft couch whilst Charlie was knelt at the centre of the carpet which marked the space between his desk and the door. He too was in tears and his mouth was forming a little 'o' of shock at the sight of the dirty, dishevelled and half naked Ian.

"IAN?" Charlie shouted confused, happy and more than a little relieved.

"Charlie," Ian smiled back, forgetting where they were and that they weren't the only ones in the room.

Getting up, Charlie raced to the open arms of Ian and laughed his apology against Ian's lips as Ian moaned his pain at being squeezed so hard. "Not the ribs," He grunted as he brushed his fingers through Charlie's hair as Charlie's fingers examined the long cut down Ian's cheek. "I love you," He whispered fiercely as he kissed Charlie again, longer this time, before swivelling him behind his back and facing Thomas who was still standing bewildered by the open door. "Thomas," He said sternly, as he backed Charlie up so that there was space between them and the psychopath holding them at gunpoint.

"How…how are you here?" Thomas asked confused, seemingly unbothered by Ian and Charlie's little reunion as he tried to put all the pieces together. "Mother?"

"She let me go," Ian smiled warmly at the man, as he took Charlie's hand in his and pressed it over the gun sticking out of his pants.

"Why would she?" Thomas asked confused as Charlie took the gun from Ian's waist and hid it behind his own back as Ian took a step towards Thomas, keeping Charlie obscured from view at all times.

"Because we talked and I made her see that the three of us could be a family…provided you leave Charlie alone."

"What? Why would she agree to that?" Thomas asked even more confused as he too took a step toward Ian.

"Because she knew the love we have for each other would be ruined if you kill him. I would never forgive you…we couldn't be a family anymore and she…loves you too much to let her anger at me jeopardise our relationship." Ian lied convincingly as Thomas lowered the gun with relief.

"Then we should leave!" Thomas smiled excitedly, like a child on Christmas morning.

"What? Right now?" Ian asked uncertainly as Thomas moved towards the door, never taking his happy, almost glowing, face off Ian's.

"Yes right now," Thomas replied as he gestured with the gun for Ian to follow.

"No Ian!" Charlie called out as Ian made to follow.

"It's ok Charlie…so long as your safe…everything will be ok." Ian replied over his shoulder, unwilling to look and see the fear in Charlie's eyes.

"What the…?!" Thomas exclaimed loudly as he and Ian left the office to see Brian, gun out, making his way down the long corridor. "YOU LIED!" Thomas roared furiously as he grabbed Ian by the lapel on the bullet proof vest so that he acted as a shield and dug the barrel of the gun into Ian's neck hard enough to leave a mark. "Drop your gun agent!" Thomas warned as he backed them up into the doorway of the small office. "And get in here. I'd hate for you to miss the party!"

Crouching down slowly, Brian left his gun in the centre of the hallway and hands raised made his way over to the office, where Thomas let him enter first before shoving Ian inside and slamming the door closed behind him.

***Outside,**

**In the Car Park***

"What's happened?" Don asked scared as Tim approached him and Nick ten minutes later.

"Something…unexpected," Tim replied cryptically as he scratched uncertainly at the back of his head.

"Speak plainly!" Nick insisted as Don bristled beside him. He could read the fear on Don's face from a mile away and hated seeing his friend in so much pain.

"From what my men can gather…Ian managed to talk the suspect into leaving with him, but something happened and now they're back inside and they have Brian with them." Tim replied unhappily.

"And?" Don asked, though he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know.

"And…the suspect is more agitated than before. He's dangerous and I'm worried he'll start shooting any second…what's your orders?" Tim asked suddenly as he dropped his hands to his side and considered the pair before him. "…If there's an opening?"

"Take the shot," Don answered for Nick, causing him to look at him with shock. Nick hadn't expected Don to be able to do his job while his brother was in trouble…Don would show him. He'd show them all. _Hang in there Charlie,_ he begged his brother silently. _Help's coming._

***Charlie's Office***

"How could I be so stupid!" Thomas shouted restlessly from where he was pacing in front of the office's door. "My mother would never let you go!"

"She did!" Ian insisted as Brian moved over to where Charlie and Larry were sat back on the overstuffed couch. "I met Brian when I got here…my boss must have sent him to check on Charlie…they're brothers…my boss and Charlie!"

"No…they saved you or you escaped. My mother would never have let you go!" Thomas shouted angrily as he pointed the gun at Ian's chest. "_We_ could have been _brothers_…you and I..."

"No," Ian replied firmly, ignoring how sore he was and how tired he felt as he contemplated how to get Thomas over to the window…surely SWAT were here by now! "We couldn't…"

"_But families can be made_!" Thomas insisted as Ian wondered over to the window and looked out at the dark night. Was that movement?

"Yes they can…hell I know that better than anyone…but not like this. _Not at gunpoint!_ Not while you're holding the man I love and my friends hostage. _You can't_ _make_ _me love you_!" Ian replied stonily as he turned to face Thomas.

"Ian…"

"No…damn it…_no_!" Ian shouted as he turned around and slammed his hand on the window's cracked seal. "You know I actually liked you when I first interviewed you? I defended you…said there was no way you were a killer!"

"You're right…I'm not. I just…I wanted you love me…the way you love him," Thomas replied ashamed as he came over to the window and placed a hand on Ian's shoulder companionably.

"Then let them go. Walk out of here with me…don't _do_ this!" Ian turned his head imploringly at Thomas.

"I…can't," Thomas whispered softly as glass shattered and blood splattered and he staggered forwards expecting Ian to catch him and instead crashed to the hard floor with a heavy thud.

"I'm sorry," Ian whispered before stepping over Thomas's body and headed over to where Charlie and Larry stood waiting in shock.

"Ian!" Charlie shouted out in in warning as a still moaning and coughing Thomas raised his gun and pointed it straight at Ian's back before shifting his aim to Charlie.

"You bastard!" Thomas choked back on his own blood as his finger squeezed on the trigger with his last ounce of strength and sent the bullet flying on its deadly trajectory.

"No!" Ian shouted, too far away and too tired to get to Charlie in time. Eye's wide with shock, Ian watched as Brian leapt on Charlie and spun him around to safety as the bullet ripped through his own shirt and unprotected back. "NO!" Ian shouted again as Brian let go of Charlie to stagger backwards into the waiting arms of Ian, who hugged him to the ground.

"Charlie?" Brian whispered as Ian cradled the fallen detective to his chest.

"You saved him," Ian replied as hot tears filled his eyes and threatened to splash over.

"Good," Brian smiled as he coughed and spluttered, his body shivering violently as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. "Ian…" He grunted as Ian wiped at the blood with the palm of his hand. "I'm scared."

"Don't be," Ian replied firmly as he held the detective tighter. "You're going to be ok…alright?" When Brian didn't reply Ian cupped the detectives cheek with his bloodied hand and stroked away the tears that were leaking from Brian's closed eyes. "You're going to be alright damn it! Do you hear me agent?" Ian shook Brian's lifeless body as what seemed like a million men dressed in black with guns swarmed the room. "Brian…" Ian whispered as Charlie came and crouched down beside them, his hand resting comfortingly on Ian's shoulder.

"He's gone," Charlie told him gently as the voices of Don and Nick drifted in to him from the corridor beyond the door and then Ian wasn't alone. Snatching the body of his partner from Ian's grasp, Elliott shouted angrily for his partner to get up…that he had work to do…but to no avail. Brian was dead…the LA Child Snatcher and her accomplice had taken their final victim.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

**_*"T__he only thing I'm really afraid of is being afraid again." -_ _Charlie Eppes: Season 2, Episode 21: Rampage*_**

***The Early Hours of the Next Morning,**

**FBI Interview Room 1***

Sat alone in the dark of the cold observation room, on the hard metal desk with his legs swinging freely, Charles Edward Eppes watched as his brother lead Ian, who was still wearing Brian's bloody bulletproof vest, into the empty interrogation room before lowering the blinds.

"Here," Don told Ian, who had all but collapsed into the uncomfortable plastic chair with relief, as he handed over a change of clothes. "They're Logan's…I figured he was about your size…" Don added as he made to move over to the door that connected to the small observation booth before Ian reached out and grabbed his crutch to stop him, his grip surprisingly firm.

Leaning forward, Charlie tried to strain his ears to overhear Ian's whispered words, his first since Don and Elliott had finally talked him into going with a paramedic to the hospital to be checked over. Whatever it was, Don nodded 'ok' before leaving the interrogation room for the observation booth and was startled to see his brother already there waiting. "Charlie." Don stated grimly as Charlie slipped off of the desk to stand opposite his hesitant brother, a mere few inches separating the two as he was reminded of their last awkward exchange only earlier that day.

_Funny,_ Charlie couldn't help but think as he took in his brother's haggard appearance, finger raked hair and stress lined face, _the whole time I wished for one last conversation with my brother and now I'm tongue tied…_

"Charlie." Don said again, this time more firmly than before as he dropped his left crutch to pull his younger brother in for a bear hug and suddenly, all at once every emotion Charlie had felt over the last twenty four hours poured out of him as he desperately tried to hide his face from Don, who was rubbing Charlie's heaving shoulders with a gentle kindness that only had Charlie crying harder. "Shh," Don whispered comfortingly as he held his brother tightly against him. "It's ok. You're ok…we're ok."

Pulling back slightly to rub furiously at his sore red eyes, Charlie just about managed to hiccup, "Are you sure?" Through his strangled sobs.

"You're my brother Chuck," Don looked fondly at his curly haired, little maths geek of a younger sibling and smiled warmly. "I love you." This last was stated a little roughly and through a partially choked up throat as emotions ran high for both brothers who were also hugging again.

"I love you too Donald," Charlie replied affectionately as he pulled back altogether and turned away from his brother to look at Ian through the special glass that let him look in unobserved to see Ian looking back at him. It was a little freaky that their eyes should meet but then there had always been something special between the pair. "Is he going to be alright?" Charlie asked Don, who had also turned to look at Ian, who had replaced the bloodied vest and tight pants with Logan's loose fitted knitted sweater, spare jeans and loafers, which all looked great, if not a little out of place on Ian who was still covered in his and Brian's blood.

"You've got to remember where Ian is concerned…our worst day is his best. He's been to war. He's a soldier. This was bad but on a scale of one to ten for him? He's been through worse," Don sighed, knowing that what he said was true but that at the same time he was lying. Ian wouldn't brush this one off…true he'd been through worse, he'd been to the brink of hell and spat in its unholy fires before and still survived but this one was different somehow. Debbie and Thomas had gotten inside his head and there was no telling what damage they'd done. All Don knew was that the man sat in his interrogation room right now wasn't the same cocky, confident and charming Edgerton they were all used to. "Ian's a survivor," Don said out loud, more for his own benefit than Charlie's. "Ian will survive this." _He just has too._

"I know," Charlie whispered uncertainly, biting his lip as he held out his hand and pressed it against the thin, cold glass. "I just hate to see him this way. My heart aches for him…I just feel so useless!"

"I know," Don replied roughly as he put his left hand on Charlie's right shoulder and squeezed as reassuringly as he could manage before adding what he knew his brother wouldn't want to hear. "Which is what makes this ten times harder to say…" Don whispered miserably as he used the same 'comforting' hand to turn his brother around so that they were facing one another again. "Ian doesn't want you in here while I debrief him."

"But!"

"No Charlie," Don shook his head sadly. "No buts."

"I don't understand…why?" Charlie looked up into his brother's conflicted gaze with his own tormented one. "Why?"

"Maybe he's worried you'll look at him differently…maybe he's protecting you…maybe it's just better not knowing…all I do know, is that he doesn't want you in here…so you're going to have to leave." Don replied unhappily as Charlie stormed out of the small booth making the one way mirror rattle slightly as he slammed the door shut behind him. "I'm sorry Chuck…" Don sighed, not knowing how to help his brother and still do his job at the same time.

"Charlie?" Ian asked guardedly as Don made his way back into the interrogation room and sat down in the small, uncomfortable plastic chair across from him.

"Gone," Don nodded as he did his best not to stare at the long angry looking scar that ran the length of Ian's left cheek.

"Good," Ian breathed out a sigh of relief as he slid his sweaty, piss stained clothes across the table at Don. "Here," He added as Don pulled two latex gloves from his suit jacket pocket and proceeded to put the vest and trousers into a large brown paper evidence bag.

"You know I'm going to need to take photos of-"

"-I know…" Ian cut in as Don picked up the camera that had been waiting on the table with Logan's clothes for when they arrived.

"I'm sorry…" Don told his old friend unhappily as he watched Ian flinch at the bright, aggressive flare of the camera's flash as he took a photo of the long gash down Ian's cheek.

"Isn't this some CSI's job?" Ian mumbled numbly as he lifted the knitted sweater so Don could take pictures of his bruised shoulder, the Taser marks and the abrasions on his wrists before stretching both legs out on the table's top so that Don could snap a photo of the small handcuff cuts on his ankles.

"Yes…" Don looked away embarrassed as he placed the camera next to the evidence bag and sat back down opposite Ian, who had put his legs back under the table. "But I figured a friendly face might help…"

"Thanks."

"I know it'll be tough…but I need you to talk me through it," Don replied gently as he picked up a writing pad and pen and handed them over to Ian. "Then you need to write it all down."

"I know," Ian replied expressionlessly as he stared off into the dark shadows in the coroners of the dimly lit room. "I noticed that the bruise on Lily Blake's face was similar to the ring Debbie Harris was wearing the day we interviewed her. I went and saw Claudia to confirm it as the ring before driving to Debbie's house to confront her. When I arrived I was all ready to wait in the car for Colby and Liz who were on their way…but I heard a large crash coming from the house, so I got out of the car to investigate."

"Did you call in what you were doing?"

"No time," Ian looked at Don firmly before letting his gaze slip away once more. "I found the gate open so I went into the garden to investigate. I found Thomas picking apples…I held him at gun point and told him he was under arrest. That's when Debbie Tasered me."

"What happened after that?"

"I woke up in that…room…"

"You don't remember getting there?"

"No."

"Continue."

"I don't know what to say…I was chained to the radiator…we talked and I realised that Debbie was the La Child Snatcher not Thomas. That it was her who killed Abigail…Thomas was just her puppet. A simple minded fool…"

"How did you escape?"

"I told her she couldn't hurt me," Ian laughed bitterly as he remembered the way she had smiled smugly as she laid the photo down next to his head. "Your move," She had whispered in his ear before leaving him alone with his despair. "She proved me wrong." Ian whispered as he sat back in the chair and laid his hands in his lap.

"How?"

"By showing me Charlie's photo. She sent Thomas to kill him…thinking that I was beaten. That she had won!"

"How did you escape Ian?" Don asked again, ignoring the way Ian's face twisted with hate at the mere thought of Debbie's smug grin as he considered what he would have done in the same situation. All alone, defeated…knowing that the person you love is being murdered and you couldn't stop it? It didn't bare thinking about!

"There were nails where the carpet met the wall. It was an old house and the child's room used to have a wooden floor. I was so out of it I thought I was imagining it but the carpet had definitely been installed before tackless strips were used to hold down carpets. I couldn't get the nail all the way out with my hands so I had to resort to using my teeth to pull it all the way out. It involved a lot of twisting and bending…to get the angle and even then I still couldn't at first. That's when I dislocated my shoulder to reach the nail. After that it was a simple as picking the lock…"

"You dislocated your shoulder?" Don asked dumbly with disbelief as Ian shrugged like it was nothing. He could have been talking about the weather, he was that calm!

"It's no big deal," Ian sniffed as he looked away ashamed, his right hand absently rubbing at the bruised shoulder. "I popped it right back in as soon as I got the hand cuffs off."

"Still…the pain…"

"Don…I'm ok. Really…I am."

"Ok…what did you do next?" Don asked as he frowned his concern for Ian, who really did seem ok…physically at least. God only knew what was really going on behind Ian's vacant expression and cold indifference.

"I hid…called her into the room and then used the chair to knock her out before locking her up in my place." Ian replied as he remembered the way he had stooped down next to her angry and thrashing body to whisper roughly in her ear. 'Your move' he had taunted as he picked up the picture of Charlie off of the ground and headed for the exit. 'Wait!' She had called out desperately, eyes wide and small voice childlike. 'Please' she had begged and Ian remembered the brief flicker of enjoyment he had gotten seeing her so powerless, so degraded. 'Don't leave me alone,' she had whispered. '_Please! _Don't leave me alone.' Ripping the picture in half, Ian threw the image of himself to the ground next to her head. 'Better?' he'd taunted as he reached down, picked up the dirty saliva soaked rag and shoved it into her screaming mouth and as one last act of kindness, placed the fleecy blanket over her so that she wouldn't get cold. 'Don't worry,' he'd whispered comfortingly as he pulled the blanket right up and over her head. 'I'll have some of my friends come get you real soon…so long as Charlie's ok that is. For your sake you had better wish that he is!'

"What did you do next?" Don asked quietly, breaking Ian's reverie after the silence had dragged on uncomfortably and it seemed like Ian wasn't going to carry on. "How did you get to Cal Sci? How did you know to go there…?"

"I 'borrowed' a car from one of Debbie's neighbours…I saw the day and date on the car's display. I was going to go to his lecture before everything…happened. I took the risk that you would have made him go and it paid off."

"Ian…"

"Look…I know that I should have waited for back up but as I got to Charlie's office I heard him saying goodbye. Thomas was literally seconds away from shooting Charlie and I knew I couldn't wait. Brian didn't get in place quick enough and Thomas saw him when I tried to get him to leave with me…"

"Ian. Brian wasn't your fault."

"You'll forgive me if I don't believe that. He gave me his vest. He saved Charlie for me because only minutes before I told him that I couldn't bear to see Charlie dead. He was going to apply to be an agent…so don't tell me that I'm blameless…because I know that _it's all my fault_."

"Brian died protecting a civilian because that was his job and he was damned good at his job." Don tried to reason with Ian but could see that Ian was still too raw to believe it.

"Has Debbie been informed that Thomas is dead yet?" Ian asked suddenly, his eyes snapping to Don's with a burning intensity of mixed emotions, most of them hatred. Don had told him on the way to the small interrogation room that Debbie was in holding…that they had finally figured out where he was only to be surprised when he wasn't there…

"No." Don shook his head and tapped his fingers uncomfortably on the metal table between them. Ian wasn't ready to know about Debbie…

"Tell me." Ian sighed tiredly as he watched his friend tear himself apart deciding whether he should do just that.

"Ok." Don nodded finally, deciding that it was Ian's choice after all. He just hoped Ian was in the right frame of mind to make his decision. He didn't want Ian doing anything he might regret later. "She'll only speak to you. Say's she give a full confession to all murders _but_ only to you."

"Can't say I'm completely surprised…ok…I'll talk to her," Ian replied after an awkward moment of tense silence as Ian decided whether to go head to head with Debbie one final time.

"You don't have to," Don offered as one last out.

"Yes…I do," Ian replied sadly.

"Alright then," Don shook his head amazed at the strength Ian found, even now when most people would be falling apart. Maybe Ian was and he was just that good at hiding it? "You write what you just told me down and I'll have Debbie brought up from holding."

"Don…" Ian said nervously as Don made his way over to the interrogation room's main exit. "I've been thinking…about your offer…"

"And?"

"I can't accept."

"But Charlie…you told him you'd stay!" Don replied horrified as he turned around and gave Ian his full attention. After everything…he really hadn't expected Ian to turn him down.

"And I am. I just can't be team leader…I'm not fit to lead anyone…"

"Please Ian, believe me when I say that this is a mistake. You can't see it now but you're a great team leader. Everyone here would follow you to the gates of hell and back!"

"And that's exactly the problem Don. They shouldn't have to. No…I'm sorry Don. After this case is officially closed…I'm handing in my resignation as I'd always planned to do," Ian sighed sadly as he picked up the pen and began to write, the conversation apparently closed. Nodding dumbly to himself, Don left Ian to it and made his own way to his office, avoiding all eye contact and attempt at conversation.

***Don's Office***

"How's Ian?" Nick asked worriedly from where he stood in the corner of Don's office, looking out of the floor to ceiling window at the multi-coloured see of umbrellas beneath them as the rain continued to batter at the window's thick glass.

"He's…surprisingly ok." Don replied as he made his way over to his desk, resting his crutches against the wall behind him.

"You think it's a front?" Nick sighed tiredly as he turned to look at Don's stress lined face properly.

"Yes…no…who really knows with Edgerton? He's seen so much…pain in his life. This is pretty small compared."

"I know…" Nick replied as he made his way to the comfortable armchair in front of Don's desk and sat down. "I've read the file. Fifteen years in foster care…he's had every bone in his left hand broken, sexually abused, whipped, beaten, broken nose, fractured arm, out casted and stabbed and all before he was sixteen. In the army he's been shot three times, publically flogged…you're right that this seems pitiful in contention with his past."

"He had something to lose this time though….it changes everything."

"Charlie…" Nick nodded solemnly. "And how do you feel about that?"

"I'm just relieved Charlie is alive…I don't care who he dates…besides Ian is a good man."

"You're right. Ian is loyal, dedicated, hardworking and brilliant at his job…"

"I'm surprised to hear that coming from you," Don replied honestly. He knew that Nick and Ian had some sort of mutual dislike for one another…was Nick finally changing his mind?

"Well..." Nick smiled fractionally. "Maybe I was quick to judge agent Edgerton."

"Well you're too late," Don replied a little more forcefully than he had intended.

"What do you mean?"

"He's resigning. Not only did he turn down my offer of team leader…he's also quitting the FBI."

"Oh…"

"Yeah…oh."

"Perhaps he'll change his mind?" Nick replied a little cryptically.

"What do you have in mind?" Don asked as someone knocked loudly on his office door. "Come in!"

"Don?" Will asked uncertainly as Nick stood up to leave. "Do you have a sec? I need to talk you about something…"

"I-"

"-Yes agent Chase, he does. I'll fill you in later," Nick winked as he slipped out and Will took his place sat opposite from Don.

"What can I do for you?" Don asked curiously as the young agent looked down at his lap uncertainly where he was wringing his hands together.

"I'm here to request a transfer…"

"You want to be put into another team?" Don asked confused as the young agent continued to avoid his gaze.

"No. I want a transfer out of LA."

"I don't understand…" Don shook his head baffled. "Why?"

"Brian was my best friend. I know we didn't know each other long…but I can't be here anymore. It's too hard."

"Surely it will help to be around friends?"

"I'm sorry sir but I've made up my mind. As soon as you can get me transferred…I'm leaving."

"Then I respect your decision. Did you have anywhere in mind?"

"No…I hadn't thought about that…I guess anywhere that needs me…"

"I think I know of a place," Don smiled remembering a conversation he had had only a couple of days ago, _wow was it really only a couple of days ago?_ "Special agent David Sinclair needs someone for his anti-corruption team in Washington DC. Does that sound like something you might be interested in?"

"Yes sir!" Will smiled for the first time since entering Don's large office.

"Ok then…I'll give Dave a call as soon as I've called to have Debbie brought up from holding.

"You're taking another crack at her?" Will asked confused.

"No. Ian is."

"Oh…"

"Yeah…"

"Right…thank you agent Eppes. It was a pleasure working with you and your team."

"Thank you Will. You were invaluable in this case…you and Brian."

"Thank you sir." Will nodded, a small ghost of a smile flittering on his rounded face before the pain of the last twenty four hours caved back in.

"You're welcome," Don told his empty office as soon as the door clicked shut behind Will and slumped back down in his swivel chair before swiping the stack of files off his desk angrily. Instantly regretting his moment of weakness, Don rested his elbows on his desk and put his head in his hands as he screamed out his frustration. That was the second agent he had lost in ten minutes. _What next?_ He asked himself derisively. _What next?_

"Don?" Robin asked quietly from where she stood in the middle of his office. He hadn't even heard her come in and for a moment he wondered if his despair had made her suddenly appear. Was she really there? "Don?" She asked again as she made her way through the littered files on the ground, careful not to stand on any, to get to Don.

"Rob?" He practically sobbed her name, causing her to pick her way through the files quicker until she was there beside him, kissing him, hugging him, loving him.

"It's ok Don."

"No it's not…Brian's dead…Will asked for a transfer…Ian's quitting…"

"I'm sorry to hear that Don. Maybe they can be talked around?"

"No…I don't blame Will really. I'd need to leave if it was me…but Ian…I really thought…Charlie said he was accepting the job…and now…"

"He's just trying to protect himself. He'll realise that he needs this and come back," Robin replied with more confidence than she really felt.

"What if he doesn't?" Don asked miserably as he pulled Robin into his lap and cradled her to him.

"Then you'll find someone else. Don…"

"I know," He sighed into her long brown hair as he held her tighter. "I just don't like change…I hate to admit that Debbie may have won."

"Charlie is still here and so is Ian. She didn't win. Brian saw to that."

"I love you," Don replied as he pulled back to look into his fiancée's tear filled eyes.

"I love you too," She whispered back as she stroked his stubbled cheek lovingly.

"I'm sorry…I have a couple of phone calls to make…I don't know when I'll get home today."

"Then I'll go home and get you some fresh clothes and a hot breakfast and bring them back for you," She smiled as she stood up and headed back through the maze of files to the door.

"You're the best," He smiled again, feeling more centred and ready to face people again. How did Robin do that? Make everything seem less…dire?

"I know," She smiled beautifully making his…'heart'…ache from his need to be with her. "You can make it up to me later," She winked as if she had read his mind, making Don flush with embarrassment before blowing him a kiss as she left.

***Meanwhile,**

**In the Small Observational Booth between interrogation suits***

Walking past the door to the interrogation room's small observational booth, Nick was surprised to see the door ajar with a creepy glow stretching out between the cracks. Upon closer inspection, Nick realised that the room wasn't empty and that the creepy glow was emanating from the room's video monitors. Pushing the door open slightly wider, Nick watched as Ian sat, elbows on knees and chin in hands, to watch the video of Thomas Danby and himself in the, now unoccupied, interrogation room all those weeks ago.

"My statement's in there," Ian said quietly, without even turning to look, as Nick continued to hover uncertainly in the doorway.

"I'm not here for that…"

"What are you here for then?" Ian asked suspiciously as he tore his gaze away from the screen for a second to shoot Nick a quick look.

"To check in…see how you're doing…did you get to see your dad yet?"

"Yes. Don let me say goodbye before he debriefed me."

"He's gone already?"

"He needed to get back to his ship…he didn't get proper authorisation to leave so he was technically AWAL for the last twenty four hours…"

"Oh…I see…"

"Was that everything?" Ian asked impatiently as he fast forwarded the tape slightly.

"Almost…what are you doing?"

"I'm watching to see if I can see it…"

"See what?" Nick asked confused as he came into the room properly and sat down on the hard metal desk next to the monitors so that he was facing Ian.

"I don't know…for the moment a serial killer and her accomplice decided I was somehow part of the family?"

"Is that the only reason?" Nick asked curiously as Ian turned his face away ashamed.

"No…" Ian sighed sadly his face a mask of mixed emotions, each battling to be felt as Ian tried to shut them _all_ down.

"Ian…"

"I'm looking for the moment I put Charlie in danger, _ok_?"

"Yes it is ok…but…you won't find the answers you're looking for on that tape," Nick replied sadly as Ian shot him a confused look.

"Ian, there is no 'ah ha' moment with these things. There were no signs on that tape that Reynolds/ Danby was ever anything more than a gardener. It doesn't matter how many times you watch it…he will always be that simple minded fool that you talked about wildlife with. You didn't think him capable of murder then and you were right he wasn't…until the end."

"No…I was wrong," Ian admitted reluctantly. "Will mentioned that Reynolds took more interest in me than the interview. Not long after I started getting stalker like crank calls. I didn't tell anyone and that's why Charlie ended up in danger."

"Is that why you're turning the job down?" Nick asked confused as he steered the conversation too the real reason he was here.

"So that's it," Ian laughed but there was no humour in it. "You've been talking to Don. Did he put you up to this little chat?"

"No. I'm here because _I_ want to know why."

"I thought you'd be happy by my decision at least!" Ian replied confused, avoiding the question as he paused the tape and turned his full attention upon the AD.

"Well you thought wrong…I'm not."

"Why? I screwed up. I didn't report the crank calls, I went into the garden alone, I got jumped from behind, I was held prisoner…then when I escaped…I ran straight to Cal Sci. I didn't call it in or wait for back up and ended up getting Brian killed. I am the last person you want as a team member let alone team leader!"

"You were also the one who broke the case, revealed the true Identity of the LA Child Snatcher, found her storage locker, and you're the one who single handily took her down. You saved Charlie's life and yes I am sorry you couldn't save Brian's as well but the fact that you acknowledge all your mistakes on this case tells me that you'll do better on the next one." Finished, Nick hopped off the desk so that he was standing before Ian, who was refusing to meet his eyes. "You went through hell…"

"I know…_trust me_ _I_ _know_…"

"But you're here now. Charlie is just down the hall…don't let this case end like…_this_." Nick sighed as he moved past Ian to the door that was still stood slightly ajar. "You're good at your job Ian and the job needs you."

"The last few days would beg to differ…"

"No Ian…you are. The Job_ needs _you and if you let yourself admit it then you'd realise that you_ need _the job. You know Fredrick Nietzsche once said: 'to live is to suffer…to survive is to find meaning in the suffering…' That's what you need to do. Find meaning in the suffering Ian, because you withstood a heck of a lot of pain to get here."

"Well you know…Nietzsche also said: 'He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.'" Ian smiled faintly as he reached out and switched the monitor in front of him off as he watched with sadness as the image of him and Danby faded to black.

"Well…as _I_ said. Your why is only down the corridor when you're ready," Nick smiled warmly, perhaps the friendliest smile he had ever given Ian…it seemed that something's _had_ changed for the better at least. Though Ian still didn't feel he deserved Nick's revised opinion of him.

"Nick?" Ian shouted out, stopping him before he could properly leave. "I'll think about staying…" He added without looking as Nick nodded once before slipping out of the room. Leaving Ian alone and even more confused than he was before.

"Ian?" Logan asked as he opened the door to the interrogation room only to find to find it empty.

"In here," Ian called out, making Logan jump as he turned to look at the one way glass with confusion.

"I was just finishing something up," Ian explained as Logan met him at the door. "What's up?"

"Debbie's on her way up. She'll be in interview room two when you're ready.

"Then I had better _get_ ready…" Ian replied as Logan shot him an 'are you ok?' look.

"Ok…then…" Logan nodded dumbly as he tried his hardest not to look at Ian's cut. Funny, Ian felt so numb that the only time he even remembered it was there was when people started staring at him funny…no not funny, with pity. There was a difference.

"Thanks for the clothes by the way…they're a nice fit…" Ian replied awkwardly as Logan continued to dither.

"It's no problem, anything to help!"

"Right…ok then…bye agent Pierce…" Ian replied a little stiltedly under the weight of agent Pierce's overly bright smile and higher pitched tone as he gave a little nod before leaving Logan standing dumbly in the middle of the corridor to get to interview room two. He wanted to be there before Debbie arrived. This time it would be on his terms, but the thought gave him little strength to face the conversation ahead.

***Interview Room Two***

Patience, something Ian used to have a lot of, not now. Not anymore. Because truth was…he honestly didn't know why he was here waiting for the woman who had kidnapped him, attempted to torture him and then tried to have Charlie killed. Ian owed this woman nothing…and yet here he was…waiting…and for what? Because he wanted to be the one to deliver the news about Thomas…because he felt like he owed it to Thomas at least?

Crossing his arms, Ian leaned back and waited. _So stupid_, Ian thought scathingly as he prepared himself for what was to come. Would she be happy or angry to see him? Would she be the bitch or the scared little girl? Did he really care? He just wanted to get it over with already so he could find Charlie…C_harlie_, God what must he be thinking right now? Would he be mad about being thrown out earlier?

"I knew you'd come!" Debbie's little girlish giggle of excitement tore Ian's mind away from Charlie and back to the present. To the tiny, poorly lit room and instantly he was back there…chained, alone…in the dark. A cell phone the only light…not enough to elevate the darkness but enough to push the shadows back as the ponies on the wall reared and cantered toward the door as if desperately trying to escape the horror of that little room…and her voice…taunting him, teasing him…stroking him.

"Debbie," Ian replied stonily as he unfolded hi arms to rest them on the cool and refreshing coldness of the metal table between them. "I was told that you wanted to see me."

"And you came," She smiled fondly as she sat down opposite him and held her hands out to her escort to be chained to the desk.

"Not because you asked," He flicked the corners of his mouth up in a brief but cruel smile that was intended to hurt.

"I don't understand…why then?" She asked quietly, that spark of happiness upon seeing him extinguished. _Good._

"Because for some reason I feel like I owe it to your son."

"Thomas…"

"I regret to inform you Ms Harris but your son died earlier tonight."

"No…No!" she shouted angrily, her face contorted with pain as she tried to back away from Ian, but the handcuffs stopped her, reopening some of the cuts she had gained from her few hours of being chained to a radiator. A few hours…it wasn't enough for what she deserved. He would have left her there for days, starving…alone…dying, and secretly Ian was relieved that they found her…he didn't like that part of himself…that darkness, that hatred…that pain that for so long had defined him. He had turned his back on that life when he'd joined the FBI…he wouldn't go back because some bitch chained him up for a week, tortured him and threatened his partner…It didn't even bear thinking about what he might have done if he'd gotten to the school and found Charlie dead…

"I'm very sorry for your loss," Ian lied as he nodded at the escort to take her away again.

"No…WAIT! That's it?"

"What more is there to say?" Ian shrugged as he stood.

"I thought you came for my confession?"

"No."

"But…but…the others…"

"Want it. I don't." Ian turned his back on her and headed for the door.

"Why not?"

"Because it doesn't matter to me, confess…don't confess I already know what you've done…you're punishment isn't for me to decide…so why should I give a shit whether you confess?"

"Because…because we're family!"

"No…_we're not_." And with that said, Ian left the room. She'd confess to spite him, but like he'd said…he honestly didn't care. She was out of his life. What he needed was to find Charlie and start putting this horrible nightmare behind them.

***Midday,**

**Don's Office***

"This is nice," Don sighed happily as he closed his eyes and breathed in Robin's scent. They were cuddled up on the couch and it was the first rest he'd gotten in over twenty four hours. "Why don't we do this more often again?"

"Because you have violent criminals to take down and for me to put away, we're a proper power couple!" Robin laughed as she leaned back and fed Don another piece of almond croissant, enjoying the way his tongue teased her fingers before she could pull them away.

"Does it ever worry you?" Don opened his eyes and looked at her intently.

"I think we have it worked out pretty well," She grinned as she leaned in and kissed him playfully on the nose.

"Sure…now…what about when a kid comes along?"

"Then I become a judge…we work around it," She smiled unfazed as he took her hand in his and linked their fingers together.

"But you don't want to be a judge…" He frowned concerned, even if she wasn't.

"It's not my first choice…but it wouldn't be too bad. It was always the plan…retire and become a judge."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," She smiled as she kissed him again, more passionately this time. "Besides we have time before all that. You have to make an honest woman of me first Mr Eppes!"

"That shouldn't be a problem," Don teased as she lifted her legs up on to the couch and cuddled closer.

"Don?" Agent Pierce called through the door as he knocked twice.

"Enter!"

"She's ready to confess!" Logan smiled brightly as he opened the door and popped his head through the small crack.

"Already?" Don frowned suspiciously. "That didn't take long…I thought Ian was going to talk to her?"

"He did," Logan smiled as he nodded in acknowledgement of Robin, who was sitting up straight and pulling her red pumps back on. "Whatever he said did the trick. She was asking to cut a deal the second he left!"

"…Good, I suppose…" Don nodded as he watched Robin get up and walk towards Logan and the door.

"Means no rest for the DA though," Robin winked as Logan held the door open for her.

"Give her hell darling!"

"I will and then later, you can finish making it up to me." She laughed as she turned back to give her fiancée one last cheeky grin before slipping out of the room.

"Well then…I suppose that's us done. What do you say to going and grabbing a celebratory beer?" Don grinned at agent Pierce who was looking at him like he'd just grown horns and a tail.

"Yes," Logan smiled back, a little shocked to realise that really did want to. "Your first round though…"

***Later that night,**

**At Ian's Dad's House***

Sighing contentedly in his sleep, Charlie smiled as his hand stretched out across the small sofa bed in search of the warm solid wall of Ian's back, only to find the other side of the bed cold and empty. Jerking his eyes open in confusion, Charlie sat up and rubbed at his tired eyes as he reached out and turned the lamp next to the sofa on.

"Shit!" Charlie shouted out in shock as his eyes adjusted to the light and Charlie spotted the dark figure sitting in the armchair across the coffee table from him. "Ian?" He asked worriedly when Charlie realised that Ian was awake…and holding a gun. "What's going on?"

"I couldn't sleep," Ian replied quietly, his gaze in his lap-intent on the gun.

"Ian…you're worrying me…" Charlie whispered as he pushed himself up into a sitting position with shaking hands.

"Sorry…" Ian mumbled apologetically, still unable to meet Charlie's eyes.

"Don't be!" Charlie rushed to reassure Ian who somehow looked smaller in the shadowy light. "Just come back to bed…it will all be better in the morning…I promise."

"Charlie…" Ian's voice cracked as his tortured eyes finally locked on Charlie's worried ones. "I want you to have this gun."

"You know I don't believe in them," Charlie frowned concerned as Ian got up and moved over to the sofa bed and sat down next to Charlie.

"Charlie, I need you to take the gun…" Ian replied as he held it out for Charlie to take. "This one is for your house and I'll get you another for your office."

"Ian…no…"

"Please Charlie…I need you to do this for me," Slumping where he sat, Charlie looked at Ian as if he had grown a second head.

"Why?"

"I need to know you're safe. If I take the job as head of Don's old team then I need you to be protected…please."

"Will you try to sleep if I do?"

"Yes," Ian replied relieved as Charlie nodded and took the gun off of him.

"Ok then…" Charlie smiled as he put the gun under his pillow before reaching out and pulling Ian in for a deep kiss.

"Mmm," Ian moaned happily as he let Charlie take his mind away from the horrors of the last few days, to a place he could live with as he tried to show Charlie just how grateful he was just to be there with him.

"When did you get dressed?" Charlie asked a little dizzily when he finally came up for air and reaching down with his hands, pulled the bottom of Ian's t-shirt up and over his head before throwing it into one of the four corners of the room.

"Charlie?" Ian asked seriously as Charlie took hold of his shoulders and manoeuvred Ian so that he was lying under him.

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"I love you too," Charlie grinned as he stroked Ian's cut cheek softly with his thumb.

"It's going to scar…" Ian whispered as he turned his face away so that the cut was hidden against the soft cotton of the pillow.

"It's a good thing I like scars then," Charlie smiled as he gently turned Ian back to face him before dipping his head down to Kiss Ian deeply on the lips.

"Mmm…a good thing," Ian smiled as he put his arms around Charlie's shoulders and arched his back to meet him as Charlie's tongue snaked it's way inside his mouth. After that he was incapable of coherent thought for quite some time.

**Epilogue**

**_*"Within the small sphere of our lives we can stare into the past, but all we can really change is our future." - Dr. Larry Fleinhardt: Season 5, Episode 11: Arrow of Time*_**

***One Week Later,**

**The FBI Lobby***

Stood to one side, Don ignored the busy passing by of the other agents as he reached up onto his tip toes to place the plaque in his hands onto the small nail in the wall that had been put up earlier whilst he had been at Brian's funeral.

"The FBI Memorial Star," Logan nodded his approval as Don stepped back to check that the plaque was straight. "It's a nice gesture…putting it up there."

"It was Ian…he spoke to Nick about getting Brian a star…he may not have gotten his chance to go to Quantico…but I'm certain that he would have made one hell of an agent and Nick agreed," Don smiled weakly as he looked from Brian's star to the other medals adorning the wall.

"He already was one hell of an agent. He proved that when he saved your brother," Logan agreed as he too looked humbly over the other plaques of agents that had died in the line of duty, some of which he had known personally. It was never easy, but it was comforting to know that they weren't being forgotten, that their sacrifice was being honoured. "Sorry…" Logan apologised as he looked away at the other agents who were giving them curious stares on their way too or from the building. "What did you want to see me about?"

"I have a proposition for you," Don smiled warmly as Logan looked back confused. If this last case has taught me anything…it's that the job of SAIC is too big for just one man. I still want to be able to have an active role in the big cases like this last one and it's getting tiring trying to make up the paperwork in the early hours of the morning."

"Ok…"

"Logan…I want you to be my ASAC."

"You want me to be the Assistant Special Agent in Charge? Why me?"

"Because you're qualified…because you're better at the politics side of things…does it matter why?"

"No…"

"What? No it doesn't matter or no you don't want to?"

"No it doesn't matter and of course I will take the job!" Logan smiled as Don grinned back. Their new found friendship was odd, but Logan was finding that he definitely preferred it to being at war with Don and his team!

"Good," Don replied as he shook Logan's hand enthusiastically before gesturing for Logan to follow him back to his office, they had a lot to sort out and Don was keen to get on top of it, after all it was a new day and there were at least ten new cases waiting for them on his desk…and floor…he really needed to get a better filing system!

**The End.**

**Hey Everyone!**

So that was the last instalment of 'Smothered by Love' and I just wanted to thank each and every one of you who made it to the very end-especially those who have been following it right from the beginning when I first posted it on the 09/04/2012! I've been writing this Fic for eight months, 129,940 words, and it's a little unbelievable to think it's been that long and that the Fic ended up being that long! So thank you all so much for persevering!

I also wanted to say a big thank you if you added this story to your favourites list or clicked to follow the story and of course to those of you who took the time to review it along the way. Your kind comments really helped keep my momentum going! Also whilst I remember, I want to say an extra special thank you to both Nessy22 and Nosting who not only reviewed practically every chapter of this Fic, but my last one as well. Thank you. X

Anyway…enough blabbering...what I really wanted let you all know is that I have a couple of sequel fic's that are out for you to check out:

**'Smothered By Christmas'**: (It is my first attempt at a one shot Fic set not long after 'Smothered By Love' as a thank you to all those who made writing this Fic worthwhile!) It's Charlie and Ian's first Christmas together, and Charlie want's everything to be perfect! But with Ian being so resistant towards the holidays; will Christmas Day go according to Charlie's plans? Or will it be a Blue, Blue Christmas this year?

**'Shell Shocked'**: Is a sequel to 'Smothered By Love' set 6 weeks later when things are finally returning to normal…that is until a bomb is let off at the LA County Courthouse, sending Robin and Don's lives back into turmoil once more. (This fic is current).

**And Finally:**

Something to look out for in the furture:

**'Someone To Believe In'**: A sequel to 'Someone To Blame' set eight years later. Colby's brother Jason is running for mayor but everything ends up going wrong when his rival dies mysteriously and he unwittingly becomes suspect number one in the homicide. Now it's a race to prove his innocence as the town turns against him and Jason finds himself desperately needing someone to believe in him!

Once again, thanks for reading, reviewing, favouring, and following this Fic and I hope you join me again in the future for the ones mentioned above.

Cheers. X

**–Colby'sGirl19.**


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